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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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Friday, October 31, 2003 It's raining outside now. How I've been awaiting the rain. One of the things I loved the most was going to sleep to the sound of the rain while I would pet Cookie or on a clean day (for her), I would let her sleep near my pillow. As I was driving home from seeing Mystic River tonite (great score by Clint Eastwood by the way. Can't wait to buy it), I kept hoping that it wouldn't rain by the time I decided to go to sleep. I loved feeling cozy in bed with my dog near me or snuggling with her on the couch with the fireplace on while watching a movie. She was so relaxed (I know, I know, when was she not) but it was just so...perfect. I still can't believe she's gone. I miss my dog a lot, especially tonite. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, October 30, 2003 Ever since I brought Cookie home, things feel different. I'm not as sad and things aren't as lonely or depressing. I have her remains with her picture on the front (in the frame thing) above my fireplace. I feel like she is able to look upon my apartment and watch over me. With her picture on the urn thingy on the fireplace (and facing the front door), it is the first thing I look for when I walk into my home. I guess it feels like I have finally brought her home again. Now though, when I think about Cookie, I feel relief knowing I did the right thing and that I truly gave her a gift. What if I had waited a day or two to let her go? I'm sure she would have felt awful or even worse, what if she were in pain or suffering? Everyone tells me not only am I lucky that I had Cookie as long as I did, but that the way she died sounds peaceful and the way it should be. I mean, I got to hold her and she had to feel the love not only from me holding her, but from my parents who also let her know what a good dog she was and how much she was loved. I hope she did...I don't think any dog was loved as much. There wasn't a person who saw her who didn't think she was the cutest thing ever. The more I think about it everyday, the more I understand how lucky I am to have had her in my life. I know it sounds cheezy, but when I think about her, my heart fills with love for her even more than it did before. I never thought I could love her more than I did when she was around, but I guess I can. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, October 29, 2003 It's hard for me to believe that Cookie has been gone for a week now. Today, I picked up her ashes from Dr. V's office. I ended up going to pick her up by myself because I found out the office closed earlier than I thought and nobody could get off of work. This ended up working out better because I think I needed to do it alone. It was weird going back to the place where I left her just one week ago. I ended up picking her up at about the exact same time we let her go last week...it was a weird feeling but strangely enough, it was oddly comforting too. I kept thinking about Cookie all day long. I rembered where I was at each hour, how I was feeling...and what time I called my parents to come to Dr. V's office to say a final good-bye. For some reason though, knowing that I would get to bring Cookie home today, made me feel "happy" oddly enough. Not "happy" in the traditional sense of the word, but I was glad that I would get to have her with me again. I mean, it's really hard to accept that Cookie's ashes are in a small box, but at the same time, I get to have her back. I still come home everyday and expect to see her sleeping on her bone shaped leopard print pillow or near the window sun bathing. I'm not used to the empty feeling in my apartment or in my heart when I am reminded that I no longer have her around. Today, is the first day I didn't cry when I got home and thought of Cookie...and it bothers me. I felt sad and "blah" all day, but I tried to hide it from everyone. I have great friends and a ton of people I am close to, but for some reason, I just didn't want to talk about it. I still don't ever really want to be ok about losing Cookie. I know I will be ok...but for someone who gave me such joy, comfort and unconditional love...I shouldn't even be close to feeling "ok" yet. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, October 28, 2003 Interesting... looking back on my old blogs...it's too late for "what ifs" now... posted by lisa | linkorama | | If people actually read this thing, you might wonder why I have a blog for Cookie. A few years ago, after I quit my truly heinous job at a "family-friendly" cable network, I found myself bored and without a project while sending out resumes. A friend of mine had a blog (people actually read his...and some even considered his "cool"), so I thought, why not build one myself. And I did...for myself and not wanting Cookie to feel left out, built one for her too. Of course, her poor blog was ignored for quite awhile. After she died though, I thought it would be nice to turn her "tales" into a site where I could write about her publicly (ok, so NOBODY reads this, and that's fine, but whatever). And it's been helpful to me...and to maybe the only two other people who read this (my parents). posted by lisa | linkorama | | It's funny, I think about how much Cookie means to me still and how I never would have thought I could love a dog that much. Even when I still had her, I knew I would be distraught if she died, but I never thought I could feel this way. And it's weird...in one way, when people ask me how I'm doing, and I say "ok" I know I don't really mean it, but when it comes out of my mouth, I do mean it. In one way, I don't know if I still haven't fully accepted Cookie being gone or if I really have. I come home and think she's just sleeping. But I come home and my apartment feels so empty and lonely I have to pretend she is here so I don't freak out on myself. Once, when I was picking Cookie up at the groomers, a woman commented how young Cookie looked until I informed her that Cookie was 14, definitely no spring chicken. She told me she once had a Shih Tzu and when it died, she was so distraught, it took her twenty years before she could get another dog. I have thought about her comment a lot, especially recently. At the time, I thought the woman was nuts. Yes, I understand a mourning period, but twenty years? Now though, I get it. I don't think I could ever get another Shih Tzu...well, maybe in twenty years. I always said that because Cookie is/was so cute, no other dog could EVER measure up. In a way, it reminds me of someone who re-marries after the spouse dies. One has such love for another, but their lives must go on. How though can they love someone else when they never chose to split from their mate? Will I be able to get another dog? I think so. Will I love it like I loved Cookie? Honestly and truly, I don't think I could. What bothers me the most is that when I think about Cookie, though it's only been a week, I feel like I am forgetting. Today for example, I tried not to think about her then I got sad. Sitting here, looking at her pictures, I try to remember what it felt like to hold and play with her and the more I think about it, the less I remember. If I don't remember I get sad, if I do remember, I get sad. Then I get annoyed that everybody else doesn't think about her. Why should they? She's not their dog. But it's like, how can everyone else go on about their lives when she's not here. Then I think about the lyric from "I Don't Know How to Say Good-bye:" The world moves on With no regret And though you're gone There are feelings I'll never forget So I remember you And though I try I don't know how to say good-bye posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, October 27, 2003 I just finished typing this entire thing about Cookie and hit "post" and the entire thing just vanished. I should have known it. My heart just sank when I realized it disappeared. Normally I would have cursed at my computer, just short of throwing it out the window. This time though I felt what happened was typical considering all the shit I've gone through in the last week. Why wouldn't it disappear? Why wouldn't some heartfelt thing I wrote about Cookie just vanish, everything else seems to. This time last week my entire life changed. I was about to lose the one thing I loved the most in this world. Cookie was my life. Everything I did, I had to think about her. From going out or even staying in, I had to make sure Cookie was taken care of. Sometimes, I wanted more freedom, but for the most part I was so grateful I had her. As she got older, I tried to prepare myself for what it would be like when I would eventually have to say good-bye. In one way, I never thought I would have to. Today, I went back to work for the first time since I lost her. When my alarm went off, I instinctively reached for Cookie only to find the pillow she used to sleep on in her place. Going back and forth from the bathroom to my bedroom while getting ready, I kept expecting to see her sleeping until I would take her out for potty. As I walked out the door, I saw her leash just sitting there near the door. I was sad seeing the grass outside knowing that I didn't have to walk Cookie that morning. At work, I kept looking at pictures of Cookie to remind myself that I needed to feel sad and that she was gone. I was afraid of getting too wrapped up in my work that I might forget her for just one moment. I couldn't bear to let that happen. But sure enough, I did get so busy that I did forget she was gone and I really hated myself for that. When I left for home, I was sad knowing that there really wasn't any reason to go home. After all, what was left there for me now? All I really wanted was to go home and hug Cookie and look at her to know that everything would be all right. The last four years I did that if I was feeling down or angry or frustrated. What would I do with myself now? I just miss my dog. I miss announcing my arrival or departure in a room to Cookie only to see her raise her ears and ignore me. I miss hearing her eating her food or lapping up her water. I even miss her awful stench when I knew it was time for a bath. I surround myself with her pictures - on my night table, the tv, bookshelf, mantle, desk, bulletin board...she's my screen saver and my desktop image on my computer at work and at home. I don't know what to do with myself. If I talk about her too much it bothers me because it gets me too sad, but if I don't talk about her I feel the same way. I don't feel like she's gone yet, maybe that's because I don't want to believe it. Either way, it doesn't matter, she's gone. I look around my apartment and it is not the same anymore. I am surrounded by her stuff becuase I can't bear to put anything away. I want to know when I will feel better but at the same time, if I do, I think that will break my heart more than anything. I hung out with a friend this evening and while he was being his usual amusing self, all I wanted to do was be at home and think about and remember Cookie. I am really freaked out that all Cookie will be to me soon is just a memory. How can that be good enough? Cookie kept me sane when the world around me was spinning out of control or when my life wasn't the way I needed it to be. All I had to do was be near her to know that as long as I had my dog, I had nothing to worry about. I loved Cookie more than I ever thought I could...without her around, I really don't know what I am going to do. How will I ever be ok? posted by lisa | linkorama | | Again, I found another song that makes me sad. Yet I need to listen to it in order for some kind of comfort... The leaves must turn The wind must blow The heart must learn when it's time for the heart to let go But when I think of you My heart knows why I don't know how to say good-bye The world moves on With no regret And though you're gone There are feelings I'll never forget So I remember you And though I try I don't know how to say good-bye ... The evenings fall Much harder now The stars grow small And the moon seems so different somehow But everytime I think of you The moon and I Know you're the only reason why I don't know how to say good-bye... - "I Don't Know How to Say Good-bye" by Frank Wildhorn and Jack Murphy from Linda Eder's album It's Time posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, October 26, 2003 When you lose someone you love, you are often told that time will only make it easier. What if you don't want it to be easier? When you no longer feel the pain of their loss this means you are healing. I don't want to heal. I want to miss my dog everyday. I want to imagine her sleeping in her bed or coming to me at every rustle of a plastic bag. In a way, I don't want to be ok. And when I start to feel ok, it bothers me. How often I think of my dog is up to me of course. I know I won't forget. When I was six, I experienced death for the first time when my grandfather passed on Christmas Eve. I don't remember anything about my life at that time really, other than being told he passed and what that felt like. At eleven, I experienced the first devistating loss of my life. I was now old enough to really understand the finality of death when Papo (my maternal grandfather) passed. And at twenty, we lost Mamo (my maternal grandmother). After my parents, she meant everything to me. I loved her more than anyone. When she died, I experienced true heartache for the first time in my life. I never knew my heart would actually ache, but it sure did. I am glad I haven't forgotten any of them. I think of grandpa at least once a day, I think of Papo several times a day and I don't think I've ever stopped thinking of Mamo. So I know I won't forget Cookie, but in a way, I don't want to stop hurting. Am I crazy? When a person dies, people send their sympathies and people mourn your loss. When a pet dies, people send their sympathies and mourn your loss, but it's different because it's a pet. The loss of a pet to me, is no different than the loss of a human. A loss is a loss, and your heart breaks just the same. Yet, sometimes I think there is almost a sense of shame associated with mourning a pet, but there shouldn't be. A friend of mine e-mailed me the following and how right I think he is: I don't think there is anything more pure and real than the love and devotion of a dog. All he asks, is a little love, a kind word, a gentle pat, a bit to eat and in return he gives you his complete unconditional love and loyalty. I used to tell Cookie that I loved her more than the whole world. And now that she's gone, so is my world. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, October 25, 2003 I think animals feel love. I hope Miss Cookie felt this way about me: When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour spent together Lives within my heart And when she was sad I was there to dry her tears And when she was happy, so was I When she loved me Through the summer and the fall We had each other That was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me. When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me. - From "When He Loved Me" by Randy Newman, Toy Story 2. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, October 24, 2003 A profound thank you to Dr. Alice Villalobos for her support and encouragement through a very difficult time. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, October 23, 2003 COOKIE MIYUKI (October 17, 1987 - October 22, 2003) nee Naughty Cookie Johnson 
Last night, October 22, I made the difficult decision of letting my dear sweet dog go. In the last week, she had undergone several tests, hospitalization in three different locations and too much discomfort to live a quality life. I was referred to a wonderfully compassionate veterinarian who informed me that Miss Cookie was much sicker than we had initially thought. In addition to chronic cirrhosis, her kidneys were withering away and she had painful gallstones. Unfortunately, it would only be a matter of time before she would suffer. I love my dog too much to see her go through anything more than she has to. The recommendation was that she be euthanized as none of the treatments she had been given in the last week were improving her condition. I didn't want her to sustain a miserable life on IVs. As most of you know, Monday night, I thought Cookie had died. I was giving her a bath and we were half way through when she started screaming (particularly disturbing as she hasn't barked in three years) and went limp in my arms. As far as I knew, she stopped breathing and I truly believed Cookie died an excruciating and traumatic death. When I found the courage to see her one last time, I happily discovered that she was not there - she had picked her little body up and walked into my bedroom and was sleeping soundly in her bed. Whenever somebody we love passes, we always wish for that one extra opportunity to share with them in order to say a proper good-bye. I was lucky enough to get this. Both my doctors and my family believe that Cookie came back for a reason. I believe it was to allow my family and I to let her know how much we loved her and to hold the last memory of her in our hearts as being peaceful and loving and not frenzied and traumatic. In her last hours, she looked spent. Throughout her life, she was always willing to fight to stay alive no matter how grim her diagnosis. But this time, she looked as if she didn't have any fight left in her. It was then that I knew putting her down was the right decision. I was able to bid a proper farewell to my dog and let her know it was ok to go. The hardest thing I've ever had to do was to make the decision to say good-bye. But I knew that this way, she wouldn't have to suffer anymore and hopefully she would find some peace. In her final moments, she became relaxed, peaceful and she even smiled at me. As the nurse motioned that she was gone, my dad noticed her tail wagging, as if to say a final good-bye. I know this e-mail is rather lengthy and well, an e-mail. As much as I would have preferred telling each of you what happened, I just don't think my heart could handle it. Thank you for being my friends and for showing your love to both me and especially Cookie. My baby lived a long, happy life, and for that, I am most grateful. posted by lisa | linkorama | | |
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