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| In Memory of Miss Cookie Miyuki | |||
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 10/17/87 - 10/22/03 about losing miss cookie home archives contact us
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Sunday, November 30, 2003 It's weird - yesterday I was sooooo sad, and today, I think I was just too tired to be so sad. I thought of Cookie all day long (as usual) and missed her of course, but today was a good day and I was ok. When I drove to Target today though, and saw the Christmas trees, I wondered how I will be when I bring home my tree and decorate it for the first time in 4 years without my dog. **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, November 29, 2003 I woke up this morning feeling really sad which continued throughout the day. "She's a dog," I keep telling myself as if the idea of mourning the loss of a dog is any different than that of a person. Yeah, Cookie was a dog, and her passing left a gaping hole in my heart just as if anybody else had died. "But she's a dog," my mind tells me. My heart says, "So freaking what, you miss her why should you feel weird because it's a dog and not a human." **Sigh** Today was hard for me because in years past, I would love nothing more than just hanging with Cookie at home doing absolutely nothing taking in the holiday season. I couldn't do that today without feeling truly depressed. I wanted to cry but I was so sad, I couldn't even do that. I wanted to be around people but I didn't...I just didn't know what to do with myself. I ended up going to a friend's and her father's sick joke about "bachelor kim che" helped me forget my sadness. Otherwise though, I really do feel sad and lonely without Cookie. She was a dog yes, but she meant more to me than I ever thought possible. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, November 28, 2003 My family came over for Thanksgiving...and as suspected I was exhausted. When the topic of Cookie came up though, I didn't want to be around to talk about it. I felt less comfortable talking about her to my own family (I'm talking about my extended family) than to my friends. Of course, I don't really know them at all, so talking about something so personal to what feels like strangers is pretty hard to do. Talking to my parents today, I knew I would get sad about Cookie. I felt really empty today. When my parents left, I never felt more lonely. Nothing felt right because I didn't have Cookie around. I tried lying on the couch with Cookie's pillow but that didn't help either. I just tried to keep myself occupied - watched a movie, did some laundry, deep conditioned my hair. Of course none of this helped. Part of me wanted to go out and not deal with how I was feeling, but how could I avoid it? I knew even if I went out and was around other people, I'd just be thinking about Cookie the entire time. I moved the blanket that was in front of the window where Cookie used to sunbathe as the relatives came for Thanksgiving. I knew that if I left it there, I'd probably get pissed off if they so much commented on it. My grandmother pointed out the astout fact that Cookie's food bowl was still out and though I know it was an innocent observant comment, it annoyed me. No offence to her, but at that moment, I just wanted everyone out of my apartment. Today, after everyone left and I was left by myself, I tried putting the blanket back, but it just wasn't the same. I couldn't put it back because it wouldn't be in the exact same spot when Cookie came home that evening, so what was the point? I hate that Cookie is gone, I really goddamn, mother fucking hate it (am I allowed to swear on the blog? If not...oops and I'm sorry). I fucking hate that she was taken from me when I still need her. Dr. V said something like she believed pets are put in our lives for a reason and only taken away when their purpose here is complete. If that were true, then why is Cookie gone now? Doesn't God or whoever put her here realize that I truly can't remain sane and survive without her? I can do one or the other, but not both. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, November 27, 2003 Long day...very tired...cooked all day in addition to prepping for the last two days. I don't think I can write anything that makes any sense. Tomorrow I will be able to say more I'm sure. :( posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, November 26, 2003 Today, I was so busy, I tried not to think about Cookie. She was always there in the back of my mind as she usually is. I drove my friend to the airport which wasn't as bad a commute as we thought it would be. Driving home was another story, traffic was awful! I didn't mind so much though (shocking, isn't it?!) Honestly, I think I'm trying not to think about this Thanksgiving being the first without Cookie. I can almost feel myself forming a wall around my heart so I won't feel the pain. When I almost think I feel something, I literally feel a change in me, flipping the switch so I won't have to think about it. I know my grandmother will want to talk about Cookie and I'll have to be strong. Of course I don't have to be "strong" but I don't know how not to. I feel the need to "act" around those I don't really know. It's sad, I don't really know my grandmother and extended family...and that bothers me too. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, November 25, 2003 I was at the market shopping for Thanksgiving - picked up the turkey and then had to hold back the tears. This time last year, I was also buying Cookie's favorite canned turkey dog food so she could share in the Thanksgiving festivities. When I got home, I could barely keep it together. I wanted to have Cookie back with me. How could I prepare Thanksgiving dinner without Cookie to keep me company? It's hard to be home without her there, it's so lonely. I have no idea how I will be come Thanksgiving Day. Sure, I have a lot to be thankful for, but as I've said many times before, without Cookie, it's just not the same. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, November 24, 2003 I saw my friend's dog today...the first dog I've really pet and spent time with since Cookie. It was weird for me. It made me miss my dog even more, made me feel even more alone. Lately, I've been feeling really alone. Not because I don't have a lot of great people around me. I do. I have some really incredible, supportive friends and the best family ever. I love them all. Not having Cookie though makes me feel so incredibly isolated and alone. Cookie filled a spot in my heart I didn't know existed until she came along. Now that she is gone, it's void is too apparent and I know nothing will ever fill it. The only thing that would fill it is Cookie - not another pet, just her. My friend told me when her parent's dog died, they kept the dog's food bowls out for almost a year...until they got another dog. That would be me...I don't think I will ever take Cookie's stuff away - I just couldn't. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, November 23, 2003 I woke up today and realzied that I missed the 30 day mark of Cookie being gone by a day. It was yesterday, November 22 and I missed it. I was disappointed in myself for not keeping better track of the days, but I had been thinking about it for several days now. While thinking about it this morning, I began to think about what led up to her "dying" for the first time that Monday evening. I had to push it out of my head becuse if I thought about it, I would feel so sad and horrible and I just couldn't go to that "place." I wondered if the fact that she had a hard time walking in her final months had something to do with the e-collar and her muscles getting weak or if somehow all of her organ failure played a part in that. Lately, when people come over and see the blanket near the window where Cookie sunbathed...STILL, I feel like I need to make excuses for it being there. I don't care that it's there and I don't care what they think, only I don't want to make them feel uncomfortable, you know? If they don't know what to say to me becuase of it, that's not my intention. I just still need to see her stuff out and remind me that Cookie lived here. All I want for the holidays is my dog back. I have a lot to be thankful for, really I do. But, without Cookie...it's just not the same. She was the one thing in my life that I could always rely on who could be there without saying a thing (hey, she was a dog for goodness sakes). She could just sit there and pass gas even and I would feel better about the world because she was in it. There wasn't anything my dog could do that would disappoint me. Ever. The only thing she could do that I knew would break my heart was to leave me. And she did. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, November 22, 2003 I don't really know what to say today. Nothing is so different than it was before, only that I still miss my dog. I could write about other things, but they don't really apply to Cookie, and I feel like what I write should be relevant. Yeah, so...**sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, November 21, 2003 I felt ever so guilty today when I looked at dogs up for adoption online. Nothing was really appealing to me though. When I got home tonite, I began thinking about Cookie and what she looked like when she'd waddle into a room or how she'd sniff everything new I'd bring into our apartment. I keep reminding myself what it felt like to hug her becuase right now, I really miss her and I am worried that I will forget what it felt like. I just want to feel her heart beating, her wet nose alerting me that she wants to be pet, seeing her face and knowing that she loves me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, November 20, 2003 For a moment, I forgot Cookie was gone again. On my way home from a movie, chatting with my friends, I thought that though it was cold outisde, I thankfully had Cookie to come home to. It had been a long couple of days at work and a lot of the stress was over. Each time I walk through my front door or walk into my bedroom and turn on the light, I keep hoping that maybe all of this was really a dream and Cookie will be sitting there waiting for me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, November 19, 2003 It's hard to believe that Cookie has been gone for a month now. I don't even know what to write after that. Four weeks...and now I don't have a dog anymore. All I want is just one more chance to hold her again and tell her that I loved her. I keep thinking that I shouldn't say that because I essentially got that when she "came back" after the first time I thought she died. I got another day and a half with her. I only wish she could have spent that time here, at home with me instead of at the vet where she spent most of that day. I went to visit her the day after she first "died" a few times that day. In the morning she seemed fine and a bit more energetic. I stayed for about an hour and then went home and got something to eat before I returned. With the 2nd visit of the day, the staff allowed me to visit with Cookie in a room instead of in the "hospital" area where I usually visited. I was able to pet her, hold her on my lap and talk to her. I promised her she would be ok. I told her how much I loved her and that I was going to make sure she would be fine. We were waiting for her vet to come in and give me an update on her condition. Luckily, she was busy that day, so I ended up spending about 2-2-1/2 hours with Cookie as we waited. I considered that a gift...even then. I didn't know what was going to happen to her, but I knew that I had to let her know everything I felt just in case I would never see her again. I remember telling Cookie that if she was tired and really sick, that she could go. I cried knowing that I obviously didn't want her to go anywhere, but that if she was barely holding on and only sticking around for me, that if it meant her suffering...she didn't have to. The vet and I chatted that afternoon and when she asked what I was going to do about Cookie's condition, I said that since Dr. V was so reputable, that whatever she suggested I do would be it. I trusted this woman from the few phone conversations we had and the trust my co-worker gave her for the care she gave to her dog. The last thing I wanted, was for Dr. V to tell me about putting Cookie down, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I knew what was going to tell me. The next day, I picked up Cookie to go to Dr. V's office. I remember telling my parents the night before that I trusted Dr. V wholeheartedly. My mom told me Cookie would be ok...my dad agreed. I wasn't so sure. I wanted to believe she would be ok and that Dr. V would give her a cure-all. "Just remember, Cookie is 16..." I would tell myself while trying to remain positive. We arrived a bit early for Cookie's appointment. Dr. V's staff was awesome and we waited in the exam room for Dr. V. As I was walking around the room holding Cookie, I noticed an article about her on the wall. Before I read the article, I noticed the photo caption in which I saw the word euthenasia. I regretted seeing those words. I knew it was a sign. When Dr. V entered the room and we started talking, I continued petting Cookie hoping she knew I loved her. I was hoping the whole time Dr. V wouldn't mention the "E" word. Luckily for me, she didn't. She did ask if I was prepared to leave Cookie there though. For a moment, I didn't know what she meant, hoping she didn't mean what I thought she meant. "LEAVE HER HERE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" I thought. "OF COURSE I'M NOT READY TO LEAVE HER HERE!" my head told me. Tears started to fall, and my heart started to break. Am I killing my dog? I wondered. I couldn't think about that. I would never leave my dog - I hated to board her at the vet's office when I went on vacation, how could I leave her forever? I was given a lot of time to say good-bye to Cookie that afternoon. I was thankful that I even got that opportunity. Most people don't get to say good-bye the way they want to and I did. How lucky. I wanted to hold onto Cookie and freeze that moment forever. I never wanted to let her go, I didn't want to be that person who would cry and be sad because I wasn't ready to loose her. I knew what I had to do, but I didn't want to. My heart would just crumble without her. It has, you know. Everytime I think of Cookie, my heart fills with love, but everytime I think about her being gone, it breaks again. Cookie lived with me for four years of just the two of us. I can't imagine how I would feel if I had her my entire life. In the time we had together, I loved her more than the world, more than my whole life...I told her that all the time. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, November 18, 2003 Everytime I read the entries on this site, I think about what I need to say to convey what I am feeling. I still haven't been able to do that yet. Sometimes, I think maybe I love Cookie too much and that I should learn to let go. What is the point of that though? There is no shame in loving your dog and grieving her loss. What am I supposed to do about that though? Do I continue to talk about her until I am "ok?" Will I ever truly be "ok?" Honestly, I don't think I will ever be the same. I am still not "ok" with Mamo & Papo being gone, but I've learned to adjust without them. When Papo died, it was the first real loss that I could understand in my head and my heart. I think I cried myself to sleep for months afterwards trying to make sense of it all. I remember surrounding myself with everything that reminded me of him - dolls he and Mamo gave me from their vacations, pictures, old sweaters and jackets. I wrote him letters about what was going on in my life hoping that by doing so, he would somehow know how much I missed him. I would purposely devote time to think about him before I went to sleep feeling that my tears were my connection to him. When Mamo died though, I was more distraught then ever. I felt a connection with her that I felt with no other. Becuase of that, I wanted to try and keep her spirit alive by doing what she would have done or said when possible. Sometimes that wasn't the best thing to do, but I didn't care. If Mamo would say it, so then would I. While grieving Mamo's loss, this time I had Cookie. When I looked into her big brown eyes, I felt like I saw a part of Mamo's soul in her. Cookie took care of me by just being there, by letting me love her and play with her when I was sad and crying, then stayed with me instead of walking away like she normally would have. When Mamo was gone, I felt lost. Without Cookie I feel lost too. Honestly, if I don't allow myself to fully think about what happened, I'm ok. When I do truly think about being without Cookie, I just can't stop being sad and angry that I am left without her. posted by lisa | linkorama | | It is currently 2:30 in the morning...and I can't sleep. I keep thinking about my dog and how much I miss her. Sometimes I think it's silly how much I miss my dog and wonder why I'm as sad as I am still. I don't know. I just know that I miss her so much. Honestly, words cannot describe what kind of a dog Cookie was and what she meant to me. She was more than just a dog who provided companionship, but she was my stability. As long as I had her around, I could get through anything. And I did. I got through family problems, job stresses, broken relationships, broken friendships, financial strain, life stress...and we celebrated all the good things that happened in my life as well. I can't imagine having gone through any of that without her. She let me cry on her when I needed to and let me hug her when I needed one. I don't think I went more than a few days in the last 4 years without a hug from Cookie or vice versa. I am the kind of person who needs to do things on her own. My mother thinks maybe I am independent to a fault. With Cookie though, I wasn't doing anything on my own. As long as I had her around, there was always someone to listen to me or to depend on. I know it sounds dumb, but my dog was always there for me. And I obviously grew to depend on that. I was worried that if I depended too much on her, what would happen if one day she wasn't there for me anymore. What would I do then? Of course I didn't want to think about that. I couldn't imagine my life without my dog who meant the world to me. In one way, I was afraid to love her too much out of fear that she would one day have to leave me. There wasn't a way to not love her more and more each day though. I was always so afraid though of her leaving me. When Papo, then Mamo died, I was beside myself. How could this happen? I grew to hate (but accept) that the people you love and need in life will die and then you're left to try and pick up the pieces. Maybe I'm selfish, I don't deny that, but what if you need these people. Then what? How do you depend on them when they are gone? Is there a crime to love and need people? Then you learn that all of it is so temporary - how much of your heart do you put into it when it is inevitable that it all must end? Of course you can't think about this fact otherwise who will make the effort to love anyone or anything if they know it is only temporary? I'm not ready to give up with Cookie. I can't let her go, I don't know how to let her go. I still need her way too much in my life to accept that there is nothing else and all I have left to survive on are memories. I don't want to hurt anymore - I want to have things back the way they were before she got sick. And if I can't have that, then I don't care anymore...I'd rather hurt than move on and forget Cookie. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, November 17, 2003 So I don't like to talk about Cookie being gone, I feel like it's a private thing I need to get through by myself. The only way I know how to express how I'm feeling is here. I don't know how to talk about it because I don't think I want to discuss it. Cookie was special to me as was the way I felt about her. With her around, I felt like I could seriously do anything. I was watching Legally Blonde 2 (no comments on this one please) this weekend, and I got sad when Elle was going on about how important Bruiser was to her. After all, he was her inspiration (watch the movie if this makes no sense). Seriously, I know Cookie was a dog and not a human, but I just can't express enough how much she meant to me. She was a dog yes, but the fact that she depended on and loved me meant a lot. Knowing she was there helped get me through bad days and made the good days that much better. I can't imagine what it would have been like had she not been a part of my life. People underestimate the value of pets. I think they do more for people emotionally than any drug or therapist. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, November 16, 2003 Today I was in a pretty bad mood. I thought maybe it was fatigue as I just wasn't in the mood to deal with people at all today. I ran some errands, got really annoyed when it took me like 20+ minutes to find parking at Target and everyone was getting in my way when I finally made it into the store. I flaked on hanging out with a friend becuase I just didn't feel in the mood to be around people. I wanted to be alone. I called my friend and flaked and hoped I wasn't being annoying. Then as I was driving home, I realized it wasn't me being in a bad mood, it was that I missed Cookie and then I started to cry. All of my emotions were bottled up (maybe in denial) and it was coming across as anger when really it was sadness. All the way home, I just wanted to be home but I wanted Cookie to be there when I walked through the door. When I got home, I fell asleep on her leopard print bone shaped pillow. I woke up feeling much better, but still sad. Honestly, I feel really lonely without Cookie. Then I started to feel guilty. I worried that when she was around I wasn't at home enough and now that she's not, I only want to be home. Sometimes I feel guilty that I wasn't around enough for her towards the end. I know I can't think too much about that or else it will just drive me crazy, but I really can't help feeling the way I do. Maybe I am just looking for a reason to blame her passing on. There is no reason why she passed away. She just did. It happens and I know that there isn't anything I could have done to prevent that from happening. I truly believe that when it is your time to go, there's nothing you can do to change that. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, November 15, 2003 I just ran into my neighbor who asked about Cookie. "How's your little one doing," she asked, "I haven't seen you guys in awhile." Then, I had to tell her the truth. What bothered me though, was the way I told her. The way I explained what happened to Cookie was very factual and lacking emotion. I didn't want to sound like losing Cookie didn't matter, but honestly, I don't know any other way. Again, maybe it's because I can't fully accept the truth. The more I think about it, the sadder I get, so I to prevent myself from hurting, I don't think about it. I was gone all day today. I went to lunch and got a facial with a friend, then met another friend for dinner and karaoke. While relaxing during the facial, I kept thinking of Cookie. I kept telling myself that thinking of Cookie would make me happy and relaxed...I was right. Throughout the treatment, I thought of all the good times we had together and how incomplete things feel without her. Things really don't get easier with time. The more days that pass without Cookie, the more I feel I am missing. Maybe this is becuase I know Cookie really should be here with me, but she's not. Maybe I don't want to believe she's not coming back. Of course, this could very well be true becuase I've said that more than a few times a week in the blog. I don't want to completely accept that Cookie is never coming back. I just want the emptiness in my heart to be filled again...and there's only one thing that could do that...Cookie. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, November 14, 2003 Talking about how I feel about Cookie to anybody is hard for me. The only way I know how to express my sadness or the way I am mourning her loss is through this blog. When I even try to discuss how I am feeling, I just can't verbalize it. Cookie was more than just a dog to me. I used to think the idea of a dog being "a man's best friend" was a little weird. How could a dog mean so much to a person? It couldn't talk, it couldn't understand...or could it? Cookie wasn't just a dog, she was my dog. She gave me unconditional love, would listen to anything I had to say, seemed to know when to give me my space and when I needed her. Holding her made me feel safe and happy, knowing she depended on me and only wanted my love and attention gave me something I can't explain. She was definitely the best friend I've ever had, and enriched my life more than I can explain, more than I ever thought. It doesn't seem right that she is gone. My life is different now. Without her, something is missing. Without her, my life will never be the same. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, November 13, 2003 I'm incredibly tired...it's been a long day. I just cooked my family two complete dinners for the week...to help out. Everytime I made a big noise or dropped food, I expected to see Cookie appear waiting for the scraps (which she never got anyways). What a pig. :) I miss her a lot. Let me tell you, it really doesn't get easier. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, November 12, 2003 Today also marks the third week without Cookie. Unbelievable...it's hard. **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | My dog had a big fear of thunder. When freaked out, it wasn't uncommon for her to beeline to the bathroom and throw herself into the toilet. I know, I know, it's just weird. Today though, when it started thundering and I nearly jumped out of my chair, I thought of Cookie heading straight for the toilet. Naturally, it was the first thunder storm since her passing and my first inclination was to rush home to give her her sedative. I lucked out again today as it stopped raining by the time I got home. I guess I am really not looking forward to the rain if I have to be home without Cookie. In the last day, I've had to tell three people about Cookie that I hadn't initally told. It's weird because while they were all sympathetic, I am sure I didn't sound as upset as they would have thought. I think I play it off that I am not as bothered or sad as I appear. Of course, if they read this here blog, they would see otherwise. When I'm with other people, I guess I try not to talk about her being gone...and if I do mention her name, I am given a sympathetic look and there is a moment of silence as if nobody knows what to say. Who am I to intentionally make someone uncomfortable, so I try and change the subject or not harp on the matter. What do I expet really? Do I expect other people to feel as sad about Cookie as I do? In a way, it would be nice, but I know that's not realistic. Even if they did, want to talk about her all the time, it would probably bother me because I'd just be too sad. I guess it's just my problem then, huh? I guess the way I am grieving for Cookie is the same way I was with her. People around me knew I adored Cookie, but I wouldn't let on just how much she meant to me. When I was home though, I played with her and treated her like she was the queen of the world. I think she knew that she was my heart. For some reason, I couldn't let other people see that. I guess I can't let other people see how much I miss Cookie either...if you read it, you know. If you don't...then, you don't. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, November 11, 2003 My parents & I invited some of our extended family over to my place for Thanksgiving. Last year, I did the same thing, only Cookie was there. This year, all I will have is an empty food and water bowl that indicates Cookie ever lived here. All of her stuff is still out, I don't ever want to put it away. I know for sure that I will never be ready to do that. Maybe it will look odd to my family to see Cookie's stuff out seeing as by then, she will have been gone for over a month. I don't want to take the blanket away that sits near the window where she used to sunbathe while I was at work. Honestly though, I'm also afraid to leave it there, because what if someone drops something on it and I have to wash it? I don't want to. I don't want to do anything that acknowledges her being gone. It's hard enough having to face it in private at my apartment everyday, but knowing that her stuff is still around is what keeps me sane. It reminds me that she lived here with me and that I can always count on that fact and those memories. I can't change anything...maybe I'm a nutjob, but that's what I have to do for me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, November 10, 2003 Monday evenings will never be the same to me again. I remember that it was a Monday night when I first thought I lost Cookie and remember how hard it was to hear her screaming in pain. It's not something I like to remember, but it's something I can really never forget. Today, I came home at lunch after running some errands. I wasn't comfortable being there during the day knowing Cookie wasn't around. But it was a first...and the first of anything without Cookie will always be hard. I feel like I keep writing the same thing everyday. Nothing changes, I miss my dog everyday and it's hard because I know she's gone, but if I truly think about that then I am a total wreck. It's not healthy to live in denial, but I don't know how to live in reality knowing she's really gone. When I think about the fact that I'll never see her again, I just...can't. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, November 09, 2003 For as long as I've had Cookie, everytime there was a birthday or anniversary or even on Christmas cards, I would sign the card from myself and Cookie. She was a part of my life and every good wish I'd send to anybody would also be on behalf of my dog especially if it was to any member of my family. Today is my dad's birthday. It took me at least 20 minutes to sign my dad's birthday card. I know it sounds stupid, but I couldn't sign it because it's hard to do something like that when you can't see through the tears and you know reality is setting in. I didn't know if I could sign a card with just my name on it or if it would be insanely stupid to put Cookie on it as well. She isn't here anymore, but she loved my dad too. I signed the card from both of us today, but knew this was the last time I would ever do that and it just reminded me she is really gone. My family & I talked about her throughout today and a few times I almost forgot she wasn't around. Several months ago, I had a dream Cookie died. I now remember feeling so broken hearted and lost in the dream. I don't really remember the details, other than she was gone and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Luckily, I was able to wake up and knew that Cookie was alive. I remember wondering what I would do if I ever lost her but relieved that the thought of her being gone was so far away and unnecessary. Every morning when I wake up now, I wonder what I am going to do. How I will get through each day isn't the problem but getting through each evening and weekend when I would have been with her is what I wonder. How do I come home to an empty apartment without her. How will I celebrate the holidays when the thing I loved most is gone? posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, November 08, 2003 Last night, I went into a pet store. I've seen dogs around the neighborhood and would feel both sad and envious of how happy and content they looked with their owners. I missed the sweet innocent eyes, the four little paws scurrying along... When I walked into the store and saw the various Shih Tzu and Lhasa Apsos, I held my breath hoping they wouldn't make me burst into tears. While I was ok I also realized that no other dog came close to the adorable and just plain cute & sweet factor that Cookie had. And then I wondered if I even wanted a new dog...ever. Maybe I will, I'm not sure. What I did know was that any future dog of mine would have to live up to Cookie (as unfair as that might be). It's hard to live up to perfecton, but that's exactly what Cookie was to me. Now that she's gone though, I even miss how badly she smelled when she was due for a bath. I miss the way her little butt swayed from side to side as she walked around with her tail held high. **sigh** It really doesn't get any easier. In some ways, the more days that pass the harder it becomes. It's getting harder to remember certain little things about her or the way she smelled (on both good and bad days) or what it felt like to hug her. It's harder to be at home because all I want to do is hold her and I just miss her so much. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, November 07, 2003 When my grandfather (who I called Papo) died, I heard Linda Ronstadt sing this on the radio...I thought it was appropriate then and do in this case as well. Oh we never know where life will take us I know it's just a ride on the wheel And we never know when death will shake us And we wonder how it will feel So goodbye my friend I know I'll never see you again But the time together through all the years Will take away these tears It's okay now Goodbye my friend I've seen a lot things that make me crazy And I guess I held on to you We could've run away and left well maybe But it wasn't time and we both knew So goodbye my friend I know I'll never see you again But the love you gave me through all the years Will take away these tears I'm okay now Goodbye my friend Life's so fragile and love's so pure We can't hold on but we try We watch how quickly it disappears And we never know why But I'm okay now Goodbye my friend You can go now Goodbye my friend -written by Karla Bonoff © 1988 Seagrape Music (BMI) I don't know my thoughts on the afterlife other than the conventional idea of heaven. When I thought of the above lyrics, it reminded me how I always wanted to hear them after Papo died. Then I thought that if there is a heaven, that when Cookie got there, I wouldn't want her to be with anybody else other than Papo & Mamo. It made me feel good knowing that Papo could finally meet Cookie and that she would keep my grandparents company and they could take care of each other. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, November 06, 2003 I've decided that I am going to write in here everyday until next October 22 even if I don't really have anything to say. It will be good for the healing process I think. Tonite, I heard a noise in my apartment and I swear it sounded like Cookie was here. It threw me for a moment as I thought maybe she really was in the other room. **sigh** I went out tonite and it was the first time I didn't go home first before going out in five years. Everytime I would go out after work, I'd have to take Cookie out for potty before I went anywhere. By not going home first, I felt sort of lost and confused in a way. There have been other times when I've gone out after work, but always came home first out of habit or even necessity. It's weird when your life changes like that and you just don't have any control over it. **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, November 05, 2003 I was looking at something I had written rather recently in which I listed Miss Cookie as one of the three things I couldn't live without. Look at me now, I'm doing it, but I hate it. I hate that I've been trying to convince myself that Cookie isn't truly gone in order to not go insane. I hate that it feels like I'm living in a fantasy world and that everytime I come home, I greet an empty apartment or when I wake up in the morning, she's just not there. I hate that when it all comes down to it and I really think about it, I know that Cookie is gone and that just kills me. But I don't want to think about it, because each time I do, my heart just breaks. posted by lisa | linkorama | | I felt guilty tonight. Two week ago today, we lost Cookie and I almost forgot. I was at my spinning class and realized that for the last two weeks, I've somehow managed to go on without my dog. Am I an awful, awful person for almost forgetting? Probably not. It made me feel horribly though. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, November 04, 2003 I know I cannot do this to myself, but I keep thinking that maybe I could have done more for Cookie before she died. I worry that maybe I didn't pay enough attention to her or lived in places that made her sick or could have prevented her eye from getting infected. I know her kidney and liver problems were chronic and it's not as if my actions (or lack thereof) caused her illnesses. Just last year, she was still more active and able to maneuver up and down the stairs of my old apartment on her own. It is when she got her eye infection that her health started to go downhill. She wasn't as active because the e-collar kept her from moving around, especially navigating the stairs; her muscles became even more mushy and inactive and she began having problems walking around; she started sleeping more too. Maybe I should have taken her to the vet earlier. I worried a lot. My friend's cat died relatively recently. His cat lived with his family on the East Coast, but his parents told him they thought the cat was dying as it was sleeping all the time. When it did die, I worried that Cookie's inactivity and more frequent sleeping was the same sign. It wasn't unlike Cookie to sleep half the day away, but when it seemed like she was sleeping even more often, I wanted to believe that maybe it was a phase. I couldn't deny that she was getting older and had encountered a lot of health issues in the last year of her life. However, I really wanted to believe that she was the only dog who would live to be 50. She was able to get through every other problem in her life, why not whatever she was dealing with now? I know that if I keep obsessing about what could have been, it will do nothing but depress me. But, it's natural to think "what if." I hope Cookie didn't think that I gave up on her too soon by letting her go and knew that I loved her and always will. I'm still not ready to let her go and want nothing more than to have her back with me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, November 03, 2003 It's cold and smells like fall here in Southern California...finally. Around this time, I would pull out the doggy sweater and force poor Miss Cookie to wear her red sweater with the white trim to keep her warm. She really hated that thing, but couldn't look more adorable. When it rained, I would pull out her matching red doggy booties to keep her feet warm and save my carpets if she wandered through the mud while looking for a place to go potty. Unfortunately, she hated those too, probably more so than she hated the sweater. Cookie was pretty resourceful and smart when it came to her sweater. Somehow, she would manage to pull the sweater off. Let me tell you, that is no easy task considering how fitted the darned thing was. As she got older, she grew to realize that no matter how many times she would pull off the sweater, I would put it right back on her. I would like to think that she learned to like the sweater, but in actuality, I think she got too tired of struggling to remove it time and time again. The smell of approaching winter makes me sad as it was my favorite time of year to spend with Cookie. There's nothing better than snuggling up on the couch with a good movie or book and my dog. I seriously wonder how I will make it through the season without her...especially Christmastime. It didn't feel very festive or holiday-y unless she was around. I know Cookie was a dog and had no concept of the holidays, but for me, having her there made me happy and gave me even more of a reason to celebrate. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, November 02, 2003 Today, I pulled the soundtrack score to Somewhere in Time from my collection of CDs. I started listening to track #5 - Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini and was reminded of how beautiful it is. I listened to it continuously on my way to Beverly Hills and back home again. As the song crescendos, it becomes incredibly powerful and gives me a sense of joy and relief at the same time. Music can be healing to me...if you've read the other entries, you will see how I can find some comfort by certain songs. After Cookie died, all I could do was listen to classical music in hopes of maybe finding something that would give me a sense of relief or something that I could even relate to. I've found that with Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. It's a beautiful, beautiful song. If you haven't heard it (and I'm sure you have) listen to it and think of Cookie...maybe then you'll know what I mean. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, November 01, 2003 I've been sitting here for awhile trying to figure out exactly what I'm feeling. Cookie is gone and though I constantly miss her, I am slowly beginning to get used to not seeing her when I get home or not hearing her walking through my apartment. I don't like the silence, I don't like that I know she doesn't live here anymore. My life is moving on as I know it should, but it's weird for me knowing that it's going on without Cookie around. When people come over, they see the sheet on the ground that Cookie used to lounge on near the window. I have yet to move it as that is where Cookie hung out on the last night she spent in our apartment. I left the crumbs from her dog treats on it and the red sttretchy first aid tape that held her bandage from the IV on her right paw. Her eating area still has a full bowl of food and water that I filled that evening as well. Knowing that it is still there is what gives me comfort and I wonder if I could ever move any of this stuff. For the last five or so years, making sure she had a comfortable living space was as important to me as making sure I did as well. In my mind, I know Cookie isn't ever coming back, but part of me still thinks that she is at the vet or that I've let her keep my parents company at their house for awhile. But part of me thinks that she is coming home soon. I don't know if I can ever truly accept that she is really gone. You would think that having her ashes in a solid oak box above my mantle would be a clue. But in as much as that makes me feel like she is with me in my home, I know she isn't coming back. I dunno, I need to feel her presence around me somehow. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I know she's gone, but I want her back. I need to feel that she is still alive somehow because otherwise, I don't know how I will be able to be ok. People think I'm brave and holding up well considering I lost my dog. But I'm not really ok. The only person or thing who could ever get me through something this traumatic is Cookie, but she's gone. What am I supposed to do now? Keep acting ok and keeping busy so I won't be so sad. This afternoon, I started watching a movie. I was lying on my couch waiting for Cookie to come over to me so we could watch the movie together. We used to watch a lot of movies and TV together all snuggled up on the couch (especially during my unemployed days). It was sad and weird to be doing that this afternoon without her. I pulled her bone shaped pillow out of my room and watched the movie with that...it made me feel like Cookie was there with me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | |
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