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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 22, 2004 I memorized the irregular beat of her heart as I held her small weak body close to my own heart. I felt the two short, then three quick beats of her heart over and over knowing it would only be time before it would stop forever. Today, on the 1 year anniversary of Cookie's passing, I want so much to remember every detail, every moment of the end of Cookie's life. I want to take those memories and hold them close to my heart so that...I can let them go...and it has taken me one whole year to do so. For the first time, I am really happy and at peace with this. I have found some kind of inner strength in my heart...to release her. I will always love my dog more than any pet I will ever have in my life moving forward, and never can I or will I forget her. What I will do is hold a special place in my heart for her -- a place that will never be erased, never forgetten. A perfect place I can "go to" in my mind and heart whenever I need to. It has been a long time (even for me) to mourn anything this deeply (ie, Mamo & Papo...). It was hard for me to accept and deal with this loss in particular because of what Cookie represented to me for the years we were together. Between 5-5:30 p.m. -- when she passed last year -- I will spend time thinking, remebering and in a way I guess honoring the spirit of Cookie. I don't remember the exact moment she left this earth last year, because telling the tech "ok, now" in reference to that final injection that would stop her heart and organs instantly was too difficult a time to pinpoint. I wanted this day to be a celebration of what Cookie meant to me. I want to remember the good times and the relationship I had with her...before I bid a final adieu. Cookie was a queen...she represented love, life, peace, sanity and friendship in my life. I take solace in knowing that up in heaven, she is happy again. She is free of disease, lonliness and hopefully with other people who I loved on this earth. I'd like to think Cookie lives with Mamo & Papo (maybe Papo mostly...:)) sharing beautiful days and moment with them, loving them the way she loved me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, October 21, 2004 Today, last year, I visited Cookie for as long as humanly possible at her vet. When she was admitted at the Animal Emergency Vet, Cookie was transported the very next day to her vet office which conveniently was next door. That afternoon, I went to visit her after lunch and hoped to get some positive news about her condition from the vet. The workers there were used to seeing me...as I was there almost weekly (if not daily) in the past month. The last visit, I remember seeing a mother and her grown daughter waiting for their appointment with their rather ill small dog. They told me stories about the vet they had seen and hated because she suggested euthanizing their dog prematurely (which unfortunately was the same vet I was seeing with Cookie). The mother told me about having to put their dog down a few years before and how their second dog (the one currently ill) saved them from being too sad about the death of their dog. The daughter scolded her mother for telling me such a story when Cookie was so seemingly sick. I smiled politely and said not to worry, but secretly, I was afraid that it was a sign. Anyway…I was led into an exam room and the nurse told me Cookie would be in shortly. This was different…for as many times as I had come to visit Cookie, never were we given our own room to visit in. I figured I was getting in the way back in the hospital area, so they put me in a room. But…they put me us in a room for a very, very long time. At first, I was annoyed because we were there to visit and a doctor was supposed to come in and give me an update at some point that afternoon. I sat in that room with Cookie for a good 2+ hours. We made the most of it. I told her that she was sick, but I promised that she would be ok after seeing Dr. V because the doctors here were mean and possibly incompetent. So I talked to Cookie as she buried her head in the palm of my had, sat on my lap all the while, I was stroking her small, sweet head. She was quite perky and had more energy than she had in the last two weeks. I hoped it was all because things were going to get better and I’d have my old dog back to her normal self. Cookie was 16, but dogs her size lived until at least 20. I truly hoped time would be kind to us. But then…I got nervous. What if this was the end? What if after I left, she relapsed and passed…what if I wasn’t there for her when it happened? Would she be alone in this wretched cage? I was so scared…so I started to tell her “good-bye”…just in case. I let her know with tears streaming down my face, that it would be ok if she had to die…because I would love her anyway and that I understood. I told her I would be ok (what a fucking lie). I told her that she was the best thing that ever happened to me…that the years we spent together meant the world to me. But…if she had to go…I wouldn’t be angry with her. I hoped my emotional speech was unnecessary. Then, the vet came in. She explained to me after looking at her x-rays that she was very sick. I wasn’t listening fully because I truly believed she didn’t know a single fucking thing. I thought she was a cold, heartless, incompetent cunt who had the audacity to tell me…”they are always brightest at the end,” patted me on the shoulder and walked out. I tried to regain some kind of composure and thanked her…because I had to leave Cookie that night and didn’t want her to harm my dog. As I left in complete and utter shock…I remember telling myself that seeing Dr. V the next day would solve all of my problems. I told my parents and my friends that I had complete faith in her. Reason being, she was my co-worker’s vet (and she loved her) and after speaking with Dr. V for the last few days about Cookie’s condition, I had created an overwhelming sense of trust for this complete stranger. She had been studying Cookie’s case…been faxed Cookie’s records…and she was going to give me the real scoop on Cookie’s condition. “Whatever she suggests we do…will be my answer…no matter what,” I kept telling myself. I knew that the next day held my answers…I only wish I knew how much that would hurt. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, October 20, 2004 Sometimes, if I think hard enough, I can hear the deafening pierce of her cry. I rarely allow myself to remember because it is too painful, but today, last year is when Cookie’s frightening cry signaled the beginning of the end. I still so clearly remember those final hours she spent at home. She never got the chance to say goodbye nor did I get the chance to have one last good moment with her there. I remember impatiently waiting to pick her up that night from the VCA of West L.A. I finally picked her up at the last minute possible (around 9:30-9:45 p.m.) because the hospital told me she needed to get the most of the IV (she was put in there because she wasn’t eating and losing weight). The doctors brought her out, wrapped in a towel and I held her so close and remember feeling so happy to bring her back home. I was looking forward to October 22 – the day of her appointment with Dr. V – as I hoped Dr. V would give me instructions to switch her diet and all would be well. I hoped. As Cookie and I drove home, I was bursting with relief and happiness to have her back with me. I promised to give her a bath later that night and couldn’t wait to spend some much needed quality time with my best friend. I brought her home excited and hopeful. I laid down a sheet and she went to lie down on it. I hoped she would want to eat, so I prepared a variety for her to choose from -- some of her loved canned dog food…the hospital said she was eating some on her own there. She didn’t want any of that, so I gave her some of the home-made dog food Dr. V had prescribed to one of my co-worker’s dogs that I freshly made for Cookie. She didn’t like that either. In fact, it kind of made her cough and wasn’t so tasty. So I went with my last ditch effort of carrot baby food. She liked that…licked it all up and I laughed because her whole mouth area was orange and she looked awfully cute. After her dinner, I wanted to curl up on the sofa with her, but she didn’t want to do that, so while I was lying down on the sofa, she hung out where she ate her food (on the sheet). I checked some email at my desk and she lay on my lap then decided lying down would be better, so she did that while I talked to her, still sitting at my desk. Finally, around 11 or so, I went to run her bath water. I took off that horrible Elizabethan collar she had to wear because of her eye infection and we started in on the bath. I had been bathing her with Johnson & Johnson’s baby shampoo – lavender scent – something the doctor suggested and something I wish I had done before (because it smelled far better than the doggie stuff she had). I started in on the bath and suddenly, she started to snort and then she screamed a painful and agonizing sound. Then…she went limp in my arms. I remember as she started snorting that she couldn’t die and was afraid she was having a heart attack. My heart started to race and my fears were getting the best of me. I only remember screaming as loud as I possibly could hoping it would somehow either wake her up or that maybe God would hear me and help. Cookie wasn’t moving…and I kept screaming…louder and louder…I felt my heart breaking and as silly as it sounds, I felt a certain part of my life ending. I set her down on the ground, on the towel waiting to dry her from her bath she never fully finished and kept screaming for Cookie to be ok. My neighbors from upstairs came down to make sure I was ok – they thought I was being raped. I called my parents and Mark and my friends…not really knowing what I was doing, only afraid that my absolute worst fear was coming true right before my eyes. This, on a day I feared most – the day Mamo had passed away only 7 years before. While my parents were on their way, I tried to get a hold of Mark again, hoping he could come over and keep me company. He slept through the ringing of the phone. So Heidi came over and sat with me… a broken hearted, inconsolably sad me…and I kept telling her how I feared Cookie dying on the same day as Mamo and how I couldn’t believe what was happening. All the while, the events of the evening playing over and over in my head. I told Heidi I just couldn’t believe Cookie was gone yet…it just wasn’t right…and I had to see her one last time. So I opened the hall door that I had closed so I wouldn’t have to see her limp body lying there in the bathroom and noticed…that…she…wasn’t…there…any…more? What? I started to jump up and down and happily screamed to Heidi that Cookie was alive. In fact, my yelling for joy actually woke her up. That was some gift…that my dog wasn’t gone after all! When my parents finally got to my place, I thanked Heidi profusely for coming over and helping me…and told her to go home and sleep since she had to work the next day. We prepared to take Cookie to the emergency vet, and when I picked her up, she screamed again. I screamed and made my dad take care of her. The scream was the most excruciating sound I’ve ever heard out of a living being…and I heard it twice. So my parents & I rushed Cookie to the 24-hour emergency vet…and had to explain everything. The story was now humorous to me because in my mind, she “died” once already…and…she has gone through so much before and never gave up. So…maybe this time…hopefully, things would be the same. How wrong I was. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, October 17, 2004 Dearest Miss Cookie, Happy birthday!!! Today would have been your 17th birthday. I am flooded with memories of the birthdays we spent together and how important they were to me (maybe more so than for you). It was so much fun for me to buy you presents and shower you with attention in hopes that you wouldn't get annoyed an walk away. Heehee...you knew how much attention you wanted and could put up with, but nothing more. Every year for your birthday, I give you a present and remind you that the day is for you. Unless I had to go to work, I would spend the day home with you. Do you remember I would give you some canned senior Science Diet dog food since I know you would happily devour it? Later on, you would get several extra treats and a slice of American cheese for dessert. You probably bet you won the lottery with all the good food, not really knowing why you were being showered with the attention. I know, I know...maybe this showering of attention was more for me than for you because as a dog, you really didn't comprehend the idea of the birthday. But, oh how I loved any excuse to feed you just a little bit more and spend just another hour with you. Today, it is hard for me, knowing you are gone. I don't know whether to be sad that I couldn't make good on my promise to you last year or to be happy that you were once here...and that you were my dog. I guess I feel a little of both, but more sad that you aren't here...and that I can't spoil you today, on your birthday and that even a year later, your absence in my life is still deeply felt. Thank you for everything you've given me, you were the best thing in my life in the years we spent together. Happy Birthday Miss Cookie Miyuki...oh, how I loved you. Today would have been Cookie's 17th birthday. Last year, she was stuck getting tests at the VCA...and I remember visiting her bottom cage in the pet ICU, promising her that for her birthday next year, things would be better. She looked at me with those big brown eyes trying so hard to get me to carry her out and wisk her home. Her eyes looked so sad, so confused. I know she hated to be there with all the other annoying sick animals. Perhaps she was feeling slightly under the weather, but she couldn't have been that sick. Could she? When I visitor hours were over and I had to go home, I remember promising to Miss Cookie that next year would be better...next birthday I would give her yummy food and that she would be home with me and I'd get her the best present ever. As she looked at me, I could see the yearning in her eyes to have me take her with me. Maybe she felt punished or unloved because we rarely spent a night apart...and when we did, she was a big emotional wreck. I told her I would be back, I told her it was because she wasn't feeling herself...I hope she understood that. All of this kills me all the more because birthdays are always important to me. Whether it be with friends or family, a birthday, any birthday is special. Even though they aren't with me anymore, I still celebrate my grandparents' birthdays and make sure to set aside a few more extra moments to be thankful for their lives and what they meant to me. Thinking about having to "mentally celebrate" Cookie's birthday today isn't really something I thought last year would happen to me in the following year. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, October 15, 2004 Everyone experiences loss…no one is immune. Why though is is so hard for me to let it go and accept that Cookie is gone? I am no more special than anyone else...yes, I lost a pet, but I didn't loose a spouse, a parent, a child... I guess loss is loss. For the first 8-9 months after Cookie passed, I felt a true real pain and emptiness in my soul without her. Everytime I thought about her, I would be sad and feel such an emptiness. Distraction always helped...I would go on through my life as normal, but deep down, I was just floating through life...only remembering the lonliness that Cookie's absence left. Everything I did somehow would reference back to her. I wanted so much to allow myself to really feel the pain...maybe so I wouldn't forget...because I was so petrified of forgetting. I was grateful for the opportunity to say good-bye, but hated that we weren't meant to be anymore... Cookie was my sanity, my strength and sometimes, fueled my happiness. When she went away, my heart shattered and my life changed forever. A person couldn't find a better dog, companion, friend and bigger heart in Cookie. I was so lucky to have been the person to be loved by her. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, October 13, 2004 Every year, 365 days pass us by. Specific dates never matter much until something happens and it forever changes the meaning in our lives. As the one and eight-year “anniversaries” of Cookie & Mamo’s (respective) passings approach, it is hard for me to look upon the end of the month of October the same. I wonder, if when Mamo was alive, if October 20th ever meant anything to her…if she ever looked at the calendar and wondered if that day would be an ordinary day. Or if it ever occurred to her that THAT day, would one day be significant in her life. As the days pass in my life, I sometimes wonder if one day a random date that passes will become significant to me one day down the road. I don’t think too much about it, but I do wonder. When I look ahead at my calendar and see that this time last year, I had only one more week left with my dog, I wonder if I lived those last seven days to it’s fullest. I remember looking forward to a trip to the Central Coast to visit old friends…not knowing… I look at past blog enteries and remember my mind was elsewhere, on other people and other things that once seemed so important. How could I know that one year later, those “things” would be completely meaningless. Last year, as Cookie grew weaker and sicker, I secretly feared the approaching date of October 20th. That was the day Mamo passed away in 1996…and since her passing, the one thing that comforted me through such a traumatic loss, was my dog. My big fear was that I would loose her on the very date that I lost my grandmother. Even now, I cannot really allow my mind to “go there” for fear I cannot handle the emotions. What am I really trying to say? Well, as usual, I learned something form my secret new favorite TV show, Starting Over. On an upcoming episode, Rhonda helps Josie cope with the death of her grandmother. Josie realizes that she idolizes her grandmother’s love for her, which is preventing her from actually embracing new love in her life. Immediately, that idea strikes a chord with me…because I too do that. I too have done that. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, October 12, 2004 I just heard what I thought was thunder...and immediately wanted to rush and hug my dog. Cookie was petrified of thunder. In her youth, we had to give her a sedative otherwise she would make a bee-line for the toilet. Yes, she was a peculiar little dog. Her previous owner recounted tales of a time when they just couldn't find Cookie. There was a thunderstorm, so they searched everywhere for her. Then they noticed sopping wet marks in the carpet that lead right to the toilet...the conclusion...Cookie felt safe there during a storm. Pretty funny, but sad. The first time we experienced a thunderstorm, I held Cookie and my mom and I reassured her everything would be ok. She was shaking. After the storm passed, I gave her a treat and all was well with the world. In subsequent storms, we snuck a sedative into a piece of cheese and Cookie was the calmest dog ever. God, I loved that dog. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, October 11, 2004 Something I was most proud of was my dog. I guess that is an understatement. After all, I created a blog for my dog...and thought it was cute. Cookie was smart, well behaved, cute...and loveable. She was the ideal dog. I doted on her...and in turn, she loved me unconditionally. My most special memories with her, was lounging at home on weekends, napping as the sun started to go down with the fresh air coming through the windows...I guess I've mentioned this before, but truly...there was nothing like it. Cookie was the best dog, the best friend, the best period. I really never thought I would ever become so attached to an animal, but I am glad I did and am forever grateful. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, October 10, 2004 Everyone tells me I should get a new dog soon. That "it would be a good idea" or that I "need one." But honestly, I'm not ready. I know a few things: As the "anniversary" of Cookie's death approaches, I'm afraid to remember the events leading up to the day where my dog was taken from me. I know I shouldn't look at it like that, but everytime I begin to think about it, my heart literally hurts. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, October 07, 2004 Lyrics...there is always a song out there that describes how I feel...I only wish I were creative enough to write them. I was listening to Susan Egan's newest album, Coffee Talk and on it, there is a song by the brilliant Marcy Heisler and Zina Goldrich called, "Oh, How I Loved You." Though it is song about the ending of a romantic relationship, the end of any relationship where the emotion of love is involved is always hard to let go of... ...Reasonless and seasonless and infinite and strong Brightening and lightening and pure Cautionless and logic-less and limitless and long Wonderous all consuming and impossible I could think of your rejection how it shook me to the core How your unexpected exit broke my heart How you learn that love you lose feels like a gently slamming door A door you keep unlocked if you’re smart... * * * But if I story write the story And I will write the story I know just how the story will begin Oh, how I loved you Oh, how I loved you Sweet and unbelievable And if you only knew Oh, how I loved you. Tuesday, October 05, 2004 Tonite, Dr. V sent me the photos I've been waiting for. Last year, right before we put Cookie down, she took pictures of Cookie -- for me, for herself. She's a busy lady and I've been anxiously awaiting them. Yet tonite, when I got those photos, it was as if they arrived when they were supposed to -- it wasn't too soon but it wasn't too late. Looking at the images of my dog...she looked so tired, so ready to go...and everything just came back to me. I remember visiting Cookie at her normal vet office after the first "death scare" and seeing life in her eyes again and she was active and reminded me of the way she used to be...when she was younger. I told the vet that and I remember she placed a hand on my shoulder and told me, "they are always the brightest right before they go." I was so angry at this comment. I was enraged. I wanted to tell her off and take Cookie into my arms and tell this hack of a vet that she didn't know what she was talking about. But deep down, deep, deep, deep down...I feared her words held truth. That day when I visited Cookie, I wasn't sure if I would ever see her again. I held her and stroked her gentle head and told her how much she was loved. I prayed not that she would live forever, but that this wouldn't be the end. Every person who has ever meant anything to me, has died before I had a chance to say good-bye -- I couldn't loose Cookie the same way. So I told her that if she had to go, that it would be ok with me...but only because I loved her so much. I wanted nothing more than for her to live forever...with me. But I knew I couldn't have the impossible. I said good-bye to her out of fear that I wouldn't get the chance again. At the same time though, I prayed that maybe I was wrong and that Cookie would come through and live for 20+ years. I was told that small dogs could live that long and my baby was only 16 -- she had at least 4 more years, right? And God knew that I couldn't live without her. He had taken everyone else that I loved too soon -- but I didn't need anyone in my life as desperately as I needed my dog. My biggest fear in life was losing my parents or my dog. I wasn't ready to experience such a traumatic loss, not yet...not ever. I was afraid to love Cookie when I first had her because I was afriad to loose her. And now that I was able to love her, I didn't know how not to love her. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, October 04, 2004 Today, I helped Mark move some of his things to his new apartment. When cleaning up some of his tapes & dvds, we came across a review copy of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" that Cookie had gnawed on (BIG TIME) back in the day. As I held it in my hand, and looked at the teeth marks, tears started to well up in my eyes and I started to chuckle. I remember when it happened because it was so out of character for her to gnaw on anything! Seeing the DVD case, reminded me of the good 'ole days and how badly I need for her to be around still physically. I looked at Mark when he handed me the case and started crying because I missed her so much and laughing because of the incident... I am keeping it in the trunk that holds all of her belongings. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, October 02, 2004 In one way, it's horrible that I keep trying to suppress my feelings and emotions about Cookie as the 1 year mark approaches. On the other hand...I feel like if I do acknowledge these budding emotions, that I will relapse into such sadness again. I miss Cookie more now than I did when she passed because now it is harder to remember what she felt and smelled like or how just being around her cheered me up when I was low. Cookie was just a pet, not a person (per se) but to me, she was like my child. I loved her more than just about anything I have ever loved. Cookie was about 12 years old when it was decided that my parents would let her live with me full time. I was never with her for more than 3 months at a time (because I was in college and only came home during the summmers) so I was never really that attched to her. But when she first came to live with me, I remember consciously trying not to become so attached out of fear that I would loose her one day. I knew that I would fiercely love her, but I was afraid of that. Afraid because it is always so hard for me when someone I love passes away -- it absolutely ruins and devestates me. For a bit, I tried to keep a little bit of distance from her, but then I asked myself why. Why would I deny myself the experience? Why push her away? Why miss out on something that could enhance my life? More importantly why was I so afraid and why should I live in fear. So, I made the decision to live and love Cookie and feel honored to have her in my life. But everyday from that point on, I feared losing her...I feared that I wouldn't be home and she would die without me...and that I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I feared that EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE. Cookie became to me my lifesaver from the world, my life...everything. I depended on her more than I think a person should depend on a pet. She was so ideal because though she loved my companionship, she didn't need that much attention. She'd come to you when she wanted to and leave when she'd had enough. It was hilarious, but perfect because I had such a busy life (working mostly). It's funny...that the death of a pet can devestate you more than you could ever imagine. I wonder if I should deal with these feelings, but somehow, I'm afraid to. I just think about Cookie everyday and am ever so thankful she graced my life because honestly, I think without her...I wouldn't be who I am today. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, September 22, 2004 Nearly one year ago today, Cookie and I moved into what would be the final homespace we would share together. Everytime I think about it, I get a well of emotions. We spent only one month in that place together and yet it seems much longer. In 30 days, I built up many incredible memories of the one being that brought such love and happiness to my life. I fear each day that grows closer to that fateful day when my beloved dog passed away because it is hard for me to believe that she will have been gone for a whole year. I've been watching a lot/too much of 'Starting Over' and in-so-doing, trying to come up with what has caused me to become so emotionally devoid. Cookie and Mamo are the two most devistating losses in my life that I haven't been able to let go of. Holding onto these people and losses I believe, is keeping me from moving on in almost all apsects of my life. However, letting go isn't something I am capable of doing at this point. I believe, my dog and my grandmother represent such selfless and unconditional love that have since left my life. I'm not sure how to move past it and I don't even know if I want to. I'm not sure what I'm getting at right now, but I do know that as October 22, 2004 approaches, I will have to gather myself and hope that I will be ok. I still miss you Miss Cookie...and I honestly don't know if I will ever really get over your loss. But you know what? To me, there is no shame in feeling this way...and I am forever blessed/grateful that I had you in my life for as long as I did. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, September 14, 2004 Today, as I was watching my new favorite tv show, Starting Over, one of the tasks Jennifer had to do was to think of what the word home meant to her in an attempt to feel safe and loved. She later commented that she once thought home was a place, but it's not a physical place, but more an emotional safe heaven. When I think of home I think of the people who I feel/felt most loved around...Mamo, Papo, my parents and Cookie...and I immediately am reminded of what made me feel most loved and secure. I wish more people had an opportunity to live the childhood I did...it's the one point in my life I am most sure of and cherish. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, September 07, 2004 I am realizing just how much time has passed since Cookie's passing. It was one thing to loose her and dealing with not having her in my life for the past 11 months. However, as the 1 year mark approaches, the actual realization that 12 whole months would have gone by without having her...I don't know how to take it. Cookie was the best thing to happen to me from the moment she became a member of my family. I looked at her and knew that as along as she was around, I would be ok. In the 7 years I had her, I suffered a lot of heartache and loss and having Cookie in my life, made all of that bearable. Sometimes, I look at my friends with their pets and am so envious of the relationship they have that I no longer have. I see the outpouring of love to their pets that for me, has nowhere to go. I hear stories that make me laugh and even warm my heart, but at the same time, sadden me because at one time, I had similar stories about Cookie. There will never be a dog as loved or as special as Cookie was to me. I fully admit that she will sit upon that golden pedestal and that any other pet will pale in comparison. I haven't been as diligent as I wanted to be in journaling this last year. Somedays, it was too hard to do, others, I felt I was being too repetitive. I miss Cookie everday of my life. Sometimes, I am really lonely because she's not around anymore, other days I can be happy knowing we so affected each other's lives and how much better we are for it. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, August 20, 2004 Sometimes, I would have to go days or even hours without seeing Cookie and my arms would ache from the sheer desire of needing to be near her. It's been nearly ten months now since she's been gone, and I haven't felt that ache once. I wonder if it is becuase I know that I can never hold her again or be comforted by her wet nose and irregular heart beats. Other times, I think maybe the reason is because in order to not hurt, I try not to think about her being gone. That's a dumb statement, I know because how could I not remember...but there are things I can't let my mind go towards like her death out of fear for my own emotional well being. No, I won't go crazy or anything, but I don't think my heart could stand it. Miss Cookie...Miyuki, Miyukes, Miss Girls, Wooks..all the names I've given Cookie before...but when I close my eyes and remember, I can feel her near me again and know that really it hasn't been that long since she's given me a hug. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, August 11, 2004 I admit I am the queen of denial...and thinking about Cookie is no different. If I think about it too much, I get sad...so I try not to...I try not to deal with how much I miss her or how hard it's been since she passed away. She was an incredible companion and friend...and it's been hard to deal with her loss still. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, July 25, 2004 Last night, I had one of my first dreams about Cookie since she passed. I remember being at a mall, walking around with big shopping bag that I had to put Cookie in because the store I was in didn't allow animals. After I left that store, I walked out, took Cookie out of the bag and walked her through the mall. It was as if she were sleeping in her old dog carrier, but in the plastic bag instead. When she started walking around, she shook herself out as she used to and licked her nose...it was as if she were really there with me...and it was really nice. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, July 13, 2004 Driving down the 405 the other night, reminded me of both the day I took Cookie to the VCA for her appointment as well as the night I brought her home before she "died" for the first time. Even typing that made me feel queasy...I felt a pain in my stomach...and I had to stop. Stop thinking about it, stop writing it. The only way I know to get through this is to not feel the pain of her loss...I may not talk about it anymore (or very much) but it doesn't mean that the pain and sadness is any less acute or real. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, July 01, 2004 It's been 17 years today since Papo passed away and yet it feels like it just happened. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, June 12, 2004 Today is the last day I will spend in this apartment. It is a hard reality to face knowing that tomorrow, I will move out of the place where Cookie spent her last days. I face a multitude of emotions as I look around at the bare walls and boxes in the apartment that once brought so much happiness. With the moss green walls and the terra cotta accent color over the fireplace, this apartment was the one I loved the most. I’ve lived in three other apartments before this one and none other felt more homey and spacious as this one. Everything about this apartment was perfect for me and for Cookie, until she died. Before moving into this apartment, I made Cookie promise me she would live long enough to move me into this place from our former residence. It never dawned on me at the time, that I was asking her this favor because I knew what was about to happen. I just wanted her to be with me and to bless this new place we would share together, just as we had shared all the other places before. As with each new home, I always made sure Cookie had a special place for herself to make her feel comfortable. Here – as with most places -- she loved the sunshine and delighted in lounging near the patio, soaking in the bright light that radiated from beyond the glass door. I hoped Cookie was as happy to live in this new place as I was. Every night before I went to bed, I would stand at the hallway door and look out at the living room and smile. I was so excited to finally have a place I truly loved. I hoped living here would bring my dog and I happiness and comfort as we had never seen before living on our own. No more than 3 weeks after moving in, Cookie passed away. To date, that loss was the hardest one I ever faced. That first week following her death, I promised myself I would only move out of the apartment if it meant I was moving to a place I was buying. The thought of moving out of the last place Cookie ever lived just broke my heart. It was here I shared my last memories with her. It was here I tried so hard to make Cookie feel comfortable in a home she would only know of for three weeks. It was here that my heart crumbled into a million pieces. I promised myself that it would be a long, long, LONG time before I would ever move out. How could I attempt to reclaim the pieces of my heart if I left too soon? No, I told myself I would never leave. It is in this apartment that I still continue to feel the presence of Cookie – it gives me comfort and peace and I will never let it go. But tomorrow, I will leave this apartment and it part, I am letting Cookie go – and that is something I am just not ready for. I put off this move for six weeks and at this moment, I am praying for more time here. I know tomorrow will come quicker than I would like so for now, I am relishing in each minute I spend here hoping that by tomorrow morning, I can bear the pain that will ensue. I will never forget… posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, June 02, 2004 Tonite, while cleaning out my apartment, I found items of Cookie's scattered amongst my own belongings. It wasn't a surprise that they were there, but seeing them caught me off-guard and the emotions and feelings of her passing overwhelmed me. Maybe I should toss them...but I couldn't bear to throw away ANY of her belongings -- not the doggy shampoo, the old bottles of meds or the Heartguard medicine she once broke into and ate ALL OF (they apparently taste like treats). It doesn't get any easier, no matter how many days or months or even years pass. It's just how we deal with the loss that matters. Sometimes I wonder how I've gotten this far and other times I hate that I've gotten this far. Damned if I do, damed if I don't. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, May 24, 2004 I can't believe I missed it...I thought about it, knew it was coming up but it didn't dawn on me that it was around the corner. May 22, 2004...the 7 month anniversary of Cookie's passing. I know it might seem weird to remember things like that, but taking time to remember dates like this is really important to me. **sigh** It's still really hard for me...and still I don't know what to say...:( posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, May 19, 2004 Yesterday, a co-worker brought her itty bitty dog into the office. The dog sat on her desk and watched my co-worker go about her business. I came to visit the dog, and couldn't stop petting it, thinking only about Cookie the whole time. This dog was so soft, so small and so sweet. When I got home that evening, I looked at the pictures I had of Cookie -- different poses, different length hair...different expressions. Cookie means so much to me still and never did I ever think I'd forget what she looked or felt like. Seeing these pictures of her though, reminded me of everything about her. I can remember what it felt like to pet her as I stroked her bone little back towards the end...and it only reminds me, even more of what I am missing still. I've been neglecting this blog, not posting daily as I promsied myself I would. Everyday though, I think of Cookie -- the first thing I think of when I wake up and one of the last things I think of before I go to sleep at night. Though I haven't been posting here, I do think of her everyday...all the time. I still miss her terribly and I'm so grateful I have such vivid memories still...I only hope and pray these memories never fade. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, May 08, 2004 Everybody, at some point or another, wants something that cannot have. This something could be a far fetched dream or could be something just out of reach. The worst is to want something that you once had but cannot ever have again. It's weird that I just cannot shake the absence of Cookie from my life. Especially now, when things are particularly stressful and the one thing that would give me peace of mind, the one thing that would give me comfort, would be the ability of coming home and seeing Cookie's face. It was always a calming effect on me when things were tough. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, May 06, 2004 I still think about Cookie a lot, missing her presence in my home...realizing that it's been a long time since she's lived here. The silence here without her is more apparent than before and you notice what is missing and you feel the absence. Every single night, I still think about what it was like to have her here...that I used to take her out for potty at a certain time and I used to plop her on my bed to go to sleep. I couldn't go to sleep without resting my hand on her belly, feeling the rise and fall of her stomach and her irregular heart beat. I memorized it...and when I close my eyes, I can feel it against my hand. I emblazoned that feeling and sound in my mind every night before I went to bed. When I close my eyes, I can see her face and feel her fur when I used to pet her. I imagine her walking around my apartment...even now, six months later, I can still feel her presence...and I don't want to ever let it go. Maybe the reason I don't know how to move on after someone I love passes away is because I don't want to let it go. I don't want to forget them...the only way I know how to hold on is by doing just that. It is the only thing that gives me comfort...the only way I can feel some kind of peace. All I know is that Cookie came into my life for a reason, and my life has never been the same since...and for that I am so grateful. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, May 02, 2004 I'm a lyric freak...and I can always find a way to relate to a song. Even though the song is about a break up, (and maybe I've already typed this before), but there's a song that realtes to the feeling of loss and the following lyrics on Rebecca Luker's album, Leaving Home called Getting Over You reminds me of how I feel: ..."and what will I do with my mornings? And what will I do with my nights? ...ask me when I'm through, getting over you... ...after this day is over, how will my dreams go on?" ...and I don't know if I'll ever get over missing Cookie. I feel like there is a part of my heart that will always be broken because she meant so much to me. When she died, it is as if I lost something in my life that was constant and good and loving. It was because of Cookie that I was able to get through Mamo's passing and the many major stresses of my own life... I don't know how to let it go...how not to feel so bad. Sometimes I think what I'm going through is wrong and almost unhealthy. It's not as if I don't know how to be happy without Cookie or don't have fun anymore...I do. I still live my life, I still find happiness in a lot of things, but it's that something is missing without her...and that part of it makes me so sad. I guess I just have a tendncy to write about what makes me sad here, especially when I am missing her the most. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, April 29, 2004 My birthday this year was hard to get through without Cookie. I thought of her a lot...(of course when don't I)...now, today would have been my grandfather's (Papo's) birthday...and even though he's been gone for 17 years, I can still remember the jolly way he used to greet me and how his face would light up. I always knew he was a great man...his values, his charisma but more importantly, the way he treated my grandmother. Until the very end, he treated her like a queen...and that is probably the one thing that I will remember most about him. I take comfort in knowing that even though it has been nearly 20 years since Papo passed away, that I will always have memories to sustain me. One thing that I can never forget is all the memories I have of the people I have lost and mean the most. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, April 22, 2004 It's hard to believe that six months ago today, Cookie died. Everytime I think about it, I find it terribly difficult to wrap my head around. I think about that last day in great detail probably on a daily basis and honestly wonder how I have made it through without falling apart more. One would think that I lost more than just a dog by reading this blog and honestly, I did. As I've mentioned before, losing Cookie was almost worse than losing a human family member. Dogs give a kind of unconditional love that isn't like the love of humans. Hahaha, maybe it's becuase they can never talk back or disappoint you. The contribution a dog makes in a person's life (if they are lucky) is huge. They give of themselves because they know of nothing else. They don't ask for very much and give you the world in return. They fill a void in (if you have one) or enrich your life with only comfort and love and it isn't until that is gone that you realize your life was that much better because they were in it. God, I was lucky... posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, April 20, 2004 It's been several, several, several days since I've typed an entry here. I've been meaning to though. Lately though, it seems that I can't not think of Cookie -- more so than usual I'm afraid. I'm hitting the 6 month point...6 long months since Cookie passed -- 6 months of being without her, 6 months of emptiness and loss. There doesn't seem to be anything I can do to make myself think of her less or feel any better. Unfortunately, I feel even sadder and more empty without Cookie these days. My birthday is coming up...my first birthday without her and it feels horrible. The way I feel seems even more empty and sad than when my grandparents passed away. Yes, I've written that before, and though I feel horrible and hate having to say that, it's true. I don't know why I can't get past this. Who deals with death well? How does that happen? There are those people who can move past it and not dwell on the feeling...but I don't think I can...I don't think I ever did. I mean, I've lived for 6 months without my dog...and successfully. But I miss her...far more than I could have ever imagined. There were times when I would go on vacation and had to board her at the vet's office. By the end of my time away from her, I missed her so much that the one thing I needed more than anything was just to be near her. Spending time around her was healing, relaxing to me. Now though, when I miss her I can only rely on my memories for comfort because there is not Cookie to return to. I hate that. I hate that I can't ever see her again or hug her and just pet her little head. I've been listening to, Sherie Rene Scott's CD, Men I've Had and on it, there is a song by Jonathan Larson (he wrote the Pulitzer Prize winning musical Rent) called Love Heals and yes, since music is healing to me, this one was also meaningful: Love Heals Like a breath of midnight air Like a lighthouse Like a prayer Like the flicker and the flame the sky reveals Like a walk along the shore That you've walked a thousand times before Like the oceans roar Love heals There are those who shield their hearts Those who quit before they start Who frozen up the part of them that feels In the dark, they've lost their sight Like a ship without a star in the night But it's all right Love heals Love heals Love heals when pain's too much to bear When you reach out your hand And only the wind is there When life's unfair When things like us are not to be Love heals when you feel so small Like a grain of sand Like nothing at all When you look out at the sea That's where love will be That's where you'll find me You'll find me So if you fear the storm ahead As you lie awake in bed No one there to stroke your head And your mind reels If your face is salty wet If you're drowning in regret Just don't forget Don't forget Don't forget It's all right Love heals Love heals Love heals you Love heals Love heals -Jonathan Larson posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, April 14, 2004 These days (or rather nights) I can't sleep at all. Thoughts of Cookie seem to keep me awake -- thoughts of guilt, sadness and lonliness prevent me from sleeping early. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, April 09, 2004 I am failing in my promise (to myself) that I would "blog" everyday about Miss Cookie. I have to say though, it's not as if I do not think about her each day because I do. Most nights, I cannot sleep because I think about her and miss her so much. It's really quite sad actually. The other night, her bed looked so lonely and empty, so I laid out her doggie sweater in her bed...just to make it look like she was still here. Though it made me very sad, there was something oddly comforting about seeing that. I hadn't picked up her sweater since last winter -- when she was still very much alive -- and touching the sweater reduced me to tears in a matter of seconds. But, at the same time, touching her sweater connected myself to her again. I'm approaching my 6 month anniversary of losing her, and sometimes I feel progress in my mourning period, but at the same time...I feel like it was yesterday. What I always feel though, is loss and lonliness from her absence. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, April 08, 2004 Happy birthday to Mamo....today would have been her birthday... **sigh** I had the best grandmother ever. When you think of the stereotype of the ultimate-loving grandmother, to me, Mamo is it. With her, I always felt love, pride, safety and unexplained comfort. I had a bond with her that I cannot describe...I only know that I feel more of a connection with her in some ways than with anyone else. I wish Mamo were here...every year on this day, I wear something that either she gave me or belonged to her as like a tribute to her. I will always remember the first time Cookie met Mamo...Mamo wasn't too into that...she wanted Cookie to stay away because in addition to not loving dogs, she was also allergic to a certain extent. Cookie was so smart...she knew not to stay near Mamo and sat in the opposite corner of her room the day we went to visit Mamo. I am still convinced that after Mamo died, Cookie to a certain extent embodied part of Mamo's spirit...there was something about Cookie that was very Mamo-esque...especially in her eyes...after Mamo passed. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, April 06, 2004 I didn't know him very well, but today, my grandfather would have celebrated his birthday. Every year, I think about him on this day...and wish I could have spent more time together. I was 6 years old when he died...and while my most distinct memory of him is the La-Z-Boy he sat on and the dirt underneath his fingernails (he was a gardner by profession), I find comfort knowing I at least have memories of him to count on. It's very important to me to have memories and appreciation of those members of my family who are important to me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, April 03, 2004 Last night, I dreamt about Cookie. We were in my room, and I was getting ready for the day, sitting on the floor in my room putting on makeup when Cookie appeared. She came waddling over to me and just watched me (as she often did). I don't remember if I actually touched her, but I got this feeling that I wasn't allowed to. I looked at her reflection in the mirror and you could almost see through her eyes. It was clear and faded into black. I remember that I was able to spend time with her and was happy to have her near me, but when I woke up, I was heartbroken to know that it was only a dream. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, March 30, 2004 Lately, I've been avoiding the blog. Why? I'm not sure...the mourning process is progressing (for lack of a better explaination). Some days, I'm great...others, I can't find a way to make myself miss Cookie any less. I've been avoiding doing certain things becuse that means (to me at least) that I'm "leaving" Cookie and I'm just not ready for that yet. God, I wish I could have her back. My birthday is coming up soon...I can't imagine spending it without her. Last year, I was happier because she was here...this year...it's far different and much more difficult. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, March 28, 2004 Today, I got a reminder to renew Cookie's dog license. While I got terribly sad, I also got angry when I had to check the box that said "pet is deceased." Deceased...I was reluctant to do admit that for some reason. It again reminded me how alone I feel without Cookie. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, March 25, 2004 I was looking for something in a drawer in the kitchen tonight and found a spare bone I had purchased for Cookie. Seeing it made me feel so sad and I felt "down" the rest of the night. I went to sleep feeling very alone and missing her even more. It's still very hard to accept that she's been gone five months now. It's not fair. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, March 22, 2004 Sometimes I wonder if Cookie defined my happiness. It's rather silly actually, but then...I think maybe not. I have friends and family, but really nobody can be what you want when you want them to be at all times. But a pet really does not err, not as humans do. Not only do they give unconditional love, but they never disappoint. Maybe I counted on that so deeply because I've felt that level of disappointment from everyone in my life (at some point or another, which is completely natural, not to say that I expected perfection, life happens, I know that). I did always count on Cookie to be there for me whenever I needed her. As I mentioned several times before in this blog, she never once disappointed me. By not being there everyday for her due to work or life...was I disapointing her? She slept on the floor near the patio door in her last week...was it because she liked the sunlight or was it more? At my parents' house, she slept near the window becuase she watched us leave each time we went to lunch or ran errands, just waiting for us to return. Was Cookie waiting for my return at my apartment? Was she waiting to be with me, knowing that she didn't have much time left? Maybe I give her too much credit. While she probably didn't intellectualize those feelings, maybe she felt them intuitively. I'm old enough to know that Cookie's death was just a part of life, but still, I don't know how to deal with the loss. She was the one being that I counted on, maybe for my happiness. Maybe because I knew I could count on her to take away any pain or sadness. Just by the sight of her, things were made right in my life. Without her, I almost feel more alone than I ever have in my entire life. I feel guilty saying that losing Cookie was more painful than losing Mamo or Papo, but in a way it's true. A friend told me that it could be becuase a pet is there in your life everyday while a grandparent isn't. Though you love your grandparents or family members, it is the pet who gives constant unconditional love every moment of everyday they are in your life. When that is gone, the void is greater than you might expect becuase of what they meant in your life. Today, I just realized is the 5 month anniversary of her passing. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, March 21, 2004 I guess I'm at a loss. There is a lot I'd like to say, but I'm just not in the mood to write much of anything. **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, March 17, 2004 Lately, I haven't been able to contribute to Cookie's blog. Of cousre it doesn't mean I think less of Cookie or even care less. I still think about her all the time no matter how tired or busy I am. That's the thing, I can never NOT think about her, even if I try (which I've done before cos I was so sad). **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, March 11, 2004 The only regret I have about my life with Cookie was that I didn't let her sleep on my bed the last few days before she first went to the hospital. I hope she didn't think I was tired of her or gave up on her and her health. It's just that with her eye infection, I wasn't able to give her a bath and she was really stinky. I just miss her so much still. Every night, when I close my eyes I remember what it felt like to hold her. As much comfort as that gives me, it also makes me feel so horrible because I know I'll never get that back again...ever. I know I'm lucky because I got the chance I was so afraid I'd never get -- to say good-bye. But really, I wasn't ready to let her go. I was truly convinced that I would get more time with her...months if not years more. She had just turned 16 when she died, which really is 64 in human years...but I believed (or wanted to) that she would live the max any dog would her size would live to -- 20 (or 80 in human years). 64 isn't very old, it's not even senior citizen age yet...Cookie had her golden years ahead of her. She was cheated and so was I. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, March 10, 2004 I was thinking about one of my favorite Sondheim songs, "Not A Day Goes By" and though it is a "love song," whenever I sing it, I get choked up thinking about my dog... :( "Not a day goes by, Not a single day But you're somewhere a part of my life And it looks like you'll stay. As the days go by, I keep thinking, "When does it end? Where 's the day I'll have started forgetting?" But I just go on Thinking and sweating And cursing and crying And turning and reaching And waking and dying And no, Not a day goes by, Not a blessed day But you're still somewhere part of my life And you won't go away. And I have to say If you do, I'll die. Dying day after day After day after day After day after day After day Till the days go by Till the days go by." posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, March 07, 2004 Everytime I think about Cookie, especially today, I am reminded of the good times I've shared with her -- especially in this apartment. Moving here, I thought was a new beginning for me...for us. Of course I never really imagined my life without my beloved dog. I figured new apartment, new independence, new memories... Everyday for the first two weeks after we moved in, I would stand at any doorway and admire my new place. Smiling, I was overjoyed but unaware that my happiness would be very short-lived. Today was a beautiful warm day. I ran errands then came home, opened the windows and relaxed. The small of the warm air mixed with the blooming flowers outside and my potpourri and candles inside, reminded me of all the warm, lazy Sundays I used to spend with Cookie and I was immediately sad. I was reminded of the emptiness and missing was the one person/thing that made me happiest. Often times, I think maybe those few of you who read this may think I am too dramatic or wonder why I can't just suck it up and move on. The thing is, you can imagine how deep such a loss will affect your life, but not until you experience it, do you know. As I've said before, Cookie helped get me through some of the most painful and emotional times of my adult life. I am only grateful that she was there for me. When she died, I not only lost a pet, but truly a friend and most treasured companion. I don't quite know how to explain it, but because she got me through the aforementioned "issues," it made me wonder how I could get through any future pain and heartache now that she is gone. It is almost five months now since she has been gone. My heart doesn't ache any less than it did before. Perhaps it hurts even more. In my apartment, I still have out her food bowl, nightlight, bed and playthings. I make my bed, still remembering to get out a sheet for her that I placed over my duvet where she used to sleep. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, March 06, 2004 Right before I first moved into my current place, I remember asking Cookie to please live long enough to move with me into my new apartment. I wasn't aware she was sick much less pass away so soon. It was always hard to tell with her because she was typically a very mellow dog who was very low key and slept most of the time. Little did I know that she would pass away exactly 1 month after we moved into our new place. She gave me 1 month here to build memories of just the two of us before she passed away. It's hard for me to accept still...and I miss her more than anyone knows. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, March 04, 2004 I couldn't stop thinking about Cookie yesterday. At work, I forced myself to focus in on the projects I was dealing with even though I was feeling pretty empty and depressed. After work, I tried going to the mall to run a few errands, but hated being there, so I went home. I was on the verge of tears just thinking of Cookie last night. The last thing I wanted to do at home was talk to anyone or deal with anything. As much as I hated being at home (because it reminded me of Cookie), it was also the only place I wanted to be. I tried to remember the days when Cookie was alive, hoping it would bring me some sort of comfort, but it only made me more sad. Really, there are no words anymore to describe what Cookie's absence has done to my life. What I needed to say, I said. All I do know is that there is a pit in my stomach, and a piece of my heart that will always be missing because she is not with me. When she was alive, I knew how much she meant to me, I knew I was lucky, but I also knew that one day she would be gone and that was something I could never fully wrap my head around. I figured when that "time" came, Cookie would have had a long standing obvious illness that would prepare me for what was to come. Though Cookie had that eye infection for months, I never thought that would signal the end. In a way though, it was a sign, just not the one I was expecting. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, March 01, 2004 Am I completely kidding myself thinking I am ready for another dog? I admit I feel like having a dog will help fill the void left when Cookie passed, and I think I am ready and open to the idea of another dog. But if/when it does finally get here, will I be a wreck? I'm not sure. I just know that there is something missing in my life since Cookie left. Though no animal can replace Cookie, I do know that I will never feel right if I never have another animal/dog to share my life with. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, February 29, 2004 Once upon a time, before I was jaded at the thought of an awards show, and actually used to look forward to them, there was Cookie and there was me. At one time, I would plan my Sunday around said award shows going to the market early in the day, getting food, diet cokes and the Sunday paper and read while spending some nice quality time with Cookie. It was times like those award shows, when I would plop Cookie down beside me and we'd watch TV, nap, eat, watch more TV and it was the best time ever. The sunlight used to stream into the room through my pale blue sheer drapes into my living room...I can picture it now and remember the times we once shared. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, February 25, 2004 Tonight, it is pouring rain...and while I'm happy I don't have to be in it as I used to when taking Cookie out for potty, I wish I were. I think about all of the times when I would get impatient becuase she would not go potty quickly enough or because I was too tired or cold. There was a time when I would remind myself to cherish each moment I was with Cookie (even if it was in the rain or cold) because my time with her wouldn't last forever. And in moments like today, I am reminded of what once was and how I wish I could have it back. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, February 24, 2004 Sometimes, it is the people around you who you least suspect will help get you through the tough times. I just have to say, that if it weren't for a particular friend of mine, I don't know what I'd do with myself. He has gotten me through some really tough times, particularly when Cookie first died. I think he is one of the only people who really made me feel better. He called everyday to check up on me and was the first friend I called to tell about Cookie (well, her first "death" at least). I don't think it was until that moment of her first "death" that I realized just how much I valued his friendship. Often times, I say he is the brother I never had and I am so grateful to have him in my life. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, February 22, 2004 Today, four months ago, Cookie passed away. It's hard for me to believe it's been so long. I've been feeling so empty and lonely all week and I realized just now that it's because another "anniversary" was approaching. Everything around me reminds me of Cookie, especially my apartment. I cannot stand to be here by myself, and yet sometimes, I just want to be surrounded by all of her things and it both kills and comforts me. Each day, as I've said before, I try to remember what it was like to hold her and today, I uncapped her doggie perfume and was reminded of what she smelled like...and I almost broke down in tears again. If I close my eyes, I can pet her again, flick her little feet and hold her one more time. I've been through my share of problems and stresses -- boy have I been through my share of stresses -- but with Cookie being gone, it's even harder and honestly, I find it hard to just deal with anything. Losing her has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with. When bad things happened before, as horrible as they were, I always had Cookie to lean on...she was the one constant in my life no matter what -- she could never disappoint me or let me down. Everyone at some point will let you down...it's a part of life and people are human. But Cookie...never. She never disappointed me or let me down. Then sometimes, I wonder if this is supposed to be teaching me something. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, February 21, 2004 Now, as I have been trying to settle into my life without Cookie, the true pain of losing her begins to set in. I have gone through the last four months missing my dog, hoping somehow to find a way to be ok, to accept the loss and move on. I have felt sadness, grief and lonliness through this journey. However, only until recently have I begun to feel real pain and emptiness in association with her loss. I have felt low and confused before, but I have always found a way through it. Those feelings have been brief and few and far between. Recently though, I just can't stop thinking about Cookie, and feeling empty which reminds me just how much I am missing without her in my life. Everyday, I function. I do what I have to do to get through the day. When my work day is over, I constantly try to find something to do just so I don't have to go home and be reminded that she is gone. I've never had problems being alone, often times I treasured it. Now, I absolutely despise it. At night, when I come home alone, I feel completely freaked out and can't wait to go to sleep so I don't have to be here in my apartment. It's not as if my life is so horrible I can't live without Cookie, that's not it at all. What I can't do though is to live here, in this space without her. I hate being reminded, everyday of every moment I am in the apartment that she is gone. When I go out, I can have fun, and be happy and can even talk about what a great dog I had. But when I have to come home, I just can't deal with it. I can't stand feeling like a part of my heart is gone. Am I ready to get another dog? If I am doing it as a form of distraction, then yes, I am willing to do that. Would that be fair to the dog? Of course not. Because it wouldn't be there with me for the sake of me loving the dog. Instead this "dog" would be there to keep me from thinking about what I am missing. And I just can't do that to any animal. I didn't feel this bad when Cookie first died. I don't understand why I feel this bad now. **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, February 20, 2004 I am trying to understand my feelings and the emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I wish I knew how to feel better. Lately, it seems like Cookie's absence in my life really stings. What is weird is that when she first died, I just missed her and knew how much I would be missing. Now though...it's painful and I honestly feel so empty and lost. I look around my apartment every morning and night, and know that it actually hurts to live here without her. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, February 19, 2004 When I close my eyes, I can see Cookie. I see her wet body shaking off the soapy water when I used to bathe her; I see her walking down the hallway with her head/ear dragging along the ground, trying to find that itch on her head/ear; I see her perky little face and big eyes when she sees that she is getting canned dog food and her ears perking up when she hears the rustle of a plastic bag or the look of horror when she sees me coming at her with a blanket to wrap her up as a Cookie burrito. And I see her little face as she finds that comfortable spot on my bed, curled up next to me knowing that she is safe and loved. Why did Cookie have to die? I need to see her face, to feel her love. My life is weird and unsettled without her. Right now, I need her more than ever and it truly depresses me to know that she's gone. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, February 18, 2004 I don't remember the details of the dream, but I know I dreamt about Cookie last night. She had come home and was sleeping in my apartment -- but my apartment was part of an office building and people (who I work with) and don't particularly love were also in the office. I went through a door that would lead me to what was my apartment and Cookie was there eating in a corner. She looked so adorable that I wanted to take her picture (and in usual Cookie fashion) she ran away and hid under the bookshelf. She then ran over the where her food bowl near the kitchen was. I watched as Cookie began eating and then I went and laid down beside her and kept her company. Then...I fell asleep. I don't remember much after that, but I got to be with her again, got to hold her and for a moment, felt content knowing we were together. When I still think of Cookie I feel an ache in the pit of my stomach, knowing she is gone especially when I need her so much. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, February 17, 2004 When life used to get me down and I wanted to be alone, the one thing that gave me comfort and happiness was Cookie. Today, I felt pretty blah, and really wasn't sure what to do. I wanted to be alone (or away from people) but since Cookie's death, I don't really like to be alone. I spent the evening with a friend who makes me laugh and helps take my mind off my problems. When I left his place though, I knew I was going home to an empty apartment and felt so empty. I try not to keep my chin up and be happy, but without Cookie around, it's really, really tough. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, February 15, 2004 Valentine's Day this year seemed particularly down without Cookie. Each year, I would give her canned dog food (she got this on special occasions or holidays), a few extra treats and maybe a special present. This year, I couldn't do any of those things and it killed me. I'm tired of the way I feel because Cookie is gone but I know the feeling of loss will never fully go away. Because Cookie is gone, there is a void not only physically in my apartment, but the one being that kept me sane, happy, fulfilled and even secure. It's amazing what kind of an affect a pet can have in one's life, but it's also an incredible testament to their importance. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, February 14, 2004 The last few days, I've been feeling pretty down. At first I thought maybe it had to do with all the stresses around me, but I think it has to do with Cookie being gone. My mother pointed out Cookie's absence from my life has probably made me somewhat depressed and she (of course) is right on the nose. Never in my life have I had an issue of being alone. I could be home alone, watching TV, cleaning up, reading a book and be happy as can be regardless if I was with someone else or alone. Lately though, being alone is the last thing I can do. Maybe I never really was alone because I had Cookie in my life. Now that she's gone, I almost don't even know what to do. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, February 13, 2004 I found this link merely by accident... Since Cookie passed away, I've been dealing with the feeling of guilt off and on ...I still think about it, but try not to dwell on that feeling because it will surely destroy me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, February 12, 2004 This, an exerpt from an e-mail I wrote to a friend of mine this evening: Right before I got your email, I was thinking a lot about Cookie and my life and again was reminded how big a part of my life is missing without her. I don't think I've ever been truly lonely to the point where I felt numb until she died. I don't think I even felt this bad after my grandparents died, and that to me is weird, shocking and in a way almost wrong. **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, February 11, 2004 A friend of mine gave me copies of pictures, back in the day when Cookie was healthy, fat and sassy. It was only a few years back, and yet it seems like forever ago. Seeing those pictures of Cookie, from back in the day, reminds me even more of what it felt like to hold her and brings back memories. I miss Cookie...a lot. Whenever I get sad, I think back to the last time I held her and how I etched that feeling and memory into my mind so deep that I would never forget. When I close my eyes, I can almost feel her heart beating next to mine and smell her freshly cleaned fur (Johnson's Lavendar Baby Shampoo). God, I miss her. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, February 09, 2004 I couldn't sleep last night becuase I suddenly became overwhelmed with memories of Cookie. My apartment was so quiet and lonely and I couldn't believe so much time had gone by in my life without Cookie. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't because I was so sad -- I started crying -- I couldn't control it, it just happened. Then, I went to the other room, grabbed her little oak-polished-picture-frame-looking-urn and finally fell asleep...with Cookie on my bed next to me. Goodness, that sounds so sad... posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, February 08, 2004 Today, I went to the Farmers Market to see the dog adoptions. There were a bunch of small dogs, many of them were Lhasa Apsos, and reminded me of Cookie. I had to see them, to be around them so I could see how I would react. I didn't break down in tears or resent them, but knew that I wasn't nearly ready for another dog. I figure if I ever do get another dog I either have to get a dog that isn't either a Shih Tzu or a Lhasa Apso (Cookie was a mix of the two) or a dog from the same family line as Cookie. It's as if the dog must either be related to her or be nothing like her. I am trying to find out of her breeder still exists, but I can't find him anywhere. Part of me hopes he's still around. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, February 05, 2004 Cookie never was a good sport when it came to picture taking becuase the camera flash always scared her, poor thing. I wish I would have been able to take more pictures of her. I only have the same few pictures to look at to remind me of her. Though there are times when I find a picture I didn't realize I had and it makes me sad. There was a picture I found of me lying on the floor and Cookie was lying on my stomach, looking tortured. I'd like to think the tortured look was due to the camera in view and not because I wasn't letting her get some peace and quiet away from me. Seeing the picture though just brought me back to when we took the picture and what it was like to live with her. I can't let her go...I still don't know how to and quite frankly, I just don't want to. I was just filling out my profile on orkut.com (it is similar tofriendster) and I came to the pet question. No, I don't have a pet (anymore) but I am having quite a time accepting that. I chose the "I love my pet(s)" option, but I hated not being able to write that I lived with Cookie still. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, February 04, 2004 Sometimes people don't understand what I'm going through -- heck sometimes even I don't either. As my mom would say, losing Cookie, to me is like the death of a child. I realize that is quite a statement. Cookie came to live with me at a time in my life when I really couldn't stand children. I thought they were loud, annoying and a nuisance. Quite frankly, I had no patience for them at all. Then my parents asked me to watch Cookie while they went out of town and she never left. Almost instantly, having Cookie around brought out my maternal instincts and in the process taught me to be more patient, kind and above all, more loving. Taking care of Cookie taught me to care more about life especially now that I was responsible for another being instead of just myself. Those early days were tough because I was living in an apartment building that didn't allow pets. I had to sneak Cookie in and out of the building complex each time I took her out for potty -- 3 to 4 times a day. I'm sure the security guard was a little suspicious of me driving in and out in short spans of time. There were times though when I was sick or exhausted from the day and just wanted to sleep. I really didn't mind though and I would do it all over again. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, February 03, 2004 I've discussed why I think I'm having such a hard time accepting Cookie's passing, but what I can't understand is why I'm having such a hard time letting it go. I don't seem to be able to even begin to let go. My issue isn't moving on though and getting another dog or whatnot, but i's just letting her go. They seem so similar, but yet I think they are very different (at least in my crazy mind). I guess if I can't accept it, I can't begin to let the issue go. While she was in my life though, I depended so much on Cookie -- she was a dog yes, but she saved me from lonliness, insanity and even from myself sometimes. She provided me with a companionship and friendship that I needed that only she could offer. I never realized the importance of pets and an unconditional support like hers that wasn't from a parent or a family member. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, February 02, 2004 Today, it rained. It hasn't rained much this year yet and for that I'm grateful. I think I posted before that I used to love the rain when I was home with Cookie. Of course it was a pain for her to have to strap on the little red rain booties before I took her out to go potty, but it was afterwards, when I would lounge on the couch and she would sleep next to me that was cozy and relaxing. It was then, when I felt most happy and comfortable. The best was when it would rain on a weekend and I would light my fireplace and watch a movie or read a book and Cookie would sit on my lap. When Cookie first passed, I feared the rain knowing that it would make me too sad and make me miss her even more. I was lucky that it hasn't rained much, especially at night. Even now, as it is raining, it is still hard, but not as hard as it would have ben if it were still October, 2003. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, February 01, 2004 The first time I heard You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown I was with Cookie and when I heard the song, Happiness, I immediately got misty eyed (yes, I've always been rather emotional) and thought of how to me, Cookie was happiness. The song was basically about how much the small things mean -- ...Happiness is being alone ev'ry now and then.../And happiness is coming home again/...Happiness is anyone or anything at all, that's loved by you... Hearing the song at the time though, really struck me because to me, Cookie defined happiness. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, January 30, 2004 Everyday, I still think of Cookie, but I wonder what I did to be so lucky to have had her in my life. That fateful afternoon -- the last one Cookie ever experienced -- Dr. V told me that animals are brought into our lives for a reason. These reasons are not some we always see while the animals are there or even soon after they are gone, but they indeed teach us a lesson. This made me think. I had an incredible childhood, with no great traumas except for the deaths of my grandparents. Each death came during a time in my life that would forever change me. or as Dr. Phil would call it, a defining moment. Because of these deaths, I truly think it affected the way I ended up loving and trusting people. If you read any of these past blogs, you will know just how much I loved my grandparents, thus losing them was particularly tragic. In some way, I think these losses kept me from being able to love anyone or anything fully out of fear of abandonment. Having Cookie though taught me, to a certan extent how to let go of these issues. She allowed me to love her without real fear or reservation. There is really no way to love and bond with a pet only partially. They are like children who need 100% of your heart and in return, give you ten times that love. I always feared losing Cookie but I knew I couldn't let that prevent me from bonding and sharing my life with her. Each day, each moment we spent together was very special. Only now, am I slowly beginning to realize and even see what Dr. V had told me. She said if there is illness or some kind of issues in it's owner's life, a pet sort of takes on that stress or illness, as if they are a conduit, taking that stress away from their owner. Cookie only began to help me heal in those four years and made a remarkable difference in my life. Which is why I think I'm having a particularly difficult time in dealing with her loss. Cookie taught me to open up and not be so consumed by fear, but I always knew that her passing would be an extremely painful and profound loss. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, January 28, 2004 There are times like tonite when I come home and the only thing I can think about is Cookie. I wonder what it would be like at this exact moment to pick her up and hold her in my arms again with the scent of lavendar Johnson's Baby Shampoo upon her fur coat. I miss the times when we would just sit together on the couch or I would just pet her on her tiny, bony head and feel the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders and see the contentment on her face knowing just how relaxed and happy she was for the attention. I always felt like we were most in-sync when I would hold her with her chest upon mine and our heart's would beat against each other. Sounds corny and maybe a little weird I know, but feeling the calm beating of my heart I think put her at ease. Sometimes, when I walk through my apartment, I can still smell traces of her (the good smell) and it makes me miss her even more. Though I know I've said it before, having Cookie in my life enriched my life more than I ever though possible. I will never be the same again, and am truly a better person for having loved her for the seven or so years she was with me. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, January 26, 2004 I dreamt about Cookie the other day for the first time since she died. Though I don't really recall the exact details of the dream, I do remember that I was going to get her, or going towards her but I never actually got to her. That's not so difficult though to figure out the meaning of, is it? **sigh** posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, January 24, 2004 I remember the one day when I came home from work or an afternoon of running errands and I coudln't find Cookie. At one of my former residences, her favorite place to be was sleeping on this big fluffy gold chair that I have (it actually came from my grandparent's house, it's even older than my mother!) However, this afternoon, she wasn't there. She wasn't in the corner near the window on the floor either (another one of her favorite spots). I then walked into my bedroom, beginning to feel just slightly panicked, but assumed she was just sleeping in her bed. She wasn't there. I looked under my bed, in the bathroom, in the bathtub, in the kitchen, under the dining table, in every possible location she could get into. She wasn't there. I started freaking out. I called her name and began looking throughout my apartment (as small as it was) thoroughly panicked. There was obviously no way she could have unlocked my door and walked away, and if someone had broken into my apartment, they wouldn't have just taken Cookie, but why couldn't I find her? After several minutes of fear and worry, I found her peacefully sleeping on the floor in my closet underneath my skirts and on top of a sweatshirt of mine that had fallen. I was so relieved to have found her. Cookie was shocked I'm sure, to be suddenly woken up and I remember I wouldn't let go of her. The one thing I remeber at the height of my panic was wondering what would I do if Cookie were gone. I couldn't possibly fathom my life without her, I didn't know what I would do at all. Thankfully, I didn't have to wonder for more than that moment, but now after three months as the pain of losing her is subsiding just a little bit, I waiver between wondering if I should get another dog sooner than I wanted to and missing her something fierce. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, January 23, 2004 The other day, I told my friend that sometimes I think I need another pet. My need doesn't stem from wanting to feel distracted but rather to keep myself from feeling lonely at home. Having Cookie filled a spot in my heart I didn't know was empty until she came into my life. I enjoyed coming home knowing I was coming home to her, being home was fun and relaxing becuase I was able to relax wtih her. Without all of that, being home is, well, kind of depressing and as I said before, lonely. Watching TV on the couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon or at night after a long day at work is really rather empty. I don't want to replace Cookie, I could never do that in a million years. What I do want though is to give life to my apartment again, maybe even to me. I know though that no pet will ever be as perfect as Cookie was for me. Who could ask for anything more than Cookie was? In my eyes, Cookie was simply perfect. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, January 22, 2004 I tried to write something about Cookie today, then realized that today, three months ago, Cookie passed away. I kept saying that to myself today, trying to wrap my mind around that. It's weird, just plain weird. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, January 21, 2004 I've been thinking lately about what it was like when I first met Cookie. The first time I met her, I knew she was special. Honestly though, I didn't know that having her would enrich my life so much. Within the next few days, I think I will write about what it took to get Cookie and her life as I remember it...for me (of course, this whole blog though really is for my sake and mine alone). posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, January 19, 2004 Sometimes, as I walk around my apartment, I pass a room freshiner I still have plugged in when Cookie needed a bath and breathe in a scent that reminds me of Cookie. I remember her and each time find it hard to believe that she's been gone for three months. When I see her bed or her food bowl I know that she's not coming home, but I want to believe that she's at the vet or away...somewhere. I've really never gotten over the losses of Papo and Mamo (17 & 8 years ago respectively) so why do I think I could get over a nearly three month loss of Cookie? posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, January 18, 2004 Lately, I've really been missing Cookie. I feel like my life is really missing something important without her around. Some days are good days and I don't feel so lonely, and others (like today) I just feel this emptiness. I went to Ikea with a friend today, and while she was looking for a new duvet, I saw their fake sheepskin rugs. It reminded me of how much Cookie liked my parents real sheepskin rug. Everytime she would go to their house, she would make a beeline for it hoping we wouldn't catch her. Before Cookie died, I always debated whether to buy her one from Ikea, but ultimately decided against it becuase it was fake (you know, nothing but the best for my Miss Cookie Miyuki). Just a few minutes ago, I was watching the Food Network's program, Unwrapped. The episode was about pet treats. Though the show talked about animal bakeries and breath mints, it reminded me of how much I always wanted to bake treats for Cookie, but never did. It also reminded me of the times I used to go to Three Dog Bakery to get Cookie treats like doggie cupcakes and cookies. I miss being able to spoil Cookie...and I still miss her so much. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, January 16, 2004 Each night, before I go to sleep, the first thing I see as I walk into my room is Cookie's bed sitting vacant for almost three months now. I wonder if I should put it and her other belongings away. When she died, I said I would never put them away as long as I lived in this apartment and I don't think I will behave differently. But, I wonder though if it is healthy to mourn for Cookie as I am. In the end, it doesn't matter I guess, becuase I have to do what is comforting to me and seeing Cookie's belongings feels "right" to me. Knowing that her things are here is still the right thing for me and gives me peace of mind and comfort. If her stuff were gone, I think it would be harder for me to cope and adjust to life without her. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, January 15, 2004 I wonder what it would be like to have another dog. Of course, I think about it, but the thought of having and loving another dog is so overwhelming, I can only shut out the idea. Cookie was a special, one-of-a-kind dog who behaved as if she were a cat, but remained loyal and true as only a dog does. Days pass and I realize Cookie is becoming more of a memory each day. I would rather enjoy her company in my life as a living being, but I know how lucky I am to have these memories to keep in my heart than to never have had them at all. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Wednesday, January 14, 2004 Twice a year, my department at work has a big event that causes me to be out from early in the morning until at least midnight -- it is a long stressful day. In the last nearly two years, I've always had to find a way for Cookie to be walked and cared for during that time. For this event, I didn't have to arrange for someone to walk her while I was gone or keep her company for a little while so she wouldn't be so lonely. I thought about how this time, I would have loved for my old roommate -- a person I consider more of as a brother than a friend -- to walk Cookie. But this time, I wouldn't have to. This time, I would come home to an empty apartment and attempt to destress wtihout Cookie. After every event, I loved nothing more than to come home and find my relaxation by just being with Cookie. Holding her in my arms provided me with a sense of calm and comfort that I could find nowhere else. My arms still ache knowing that I will never hold her again and I miss that sense of peace that I found only with Cookie. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, January 13, 2004 I take comfort in knowing that Cookie lived here as evidenced by the food bowl that sits with uneaten food near the kitchen and her once slept in bed and blankets in my bedroom. Honestly, I'm not ready to remove any of her belongings. Seeing them there everyday helps to make the feeling of loss a little bit less acute. I've accepted that Cookie is gone and that she is not physically here anymore. But I cannot possibly remove evidence that she ever was here. Nobody knows how much I miss her -- I think about her everyday and I really don't like being home alone becuase she's not here. It feels like I was forced to let her go so quickly. For some reason, I always thought that I would be forced to deal with Cookie suffering through a long illness before losing her. My biggest fear was that I would come home one day from work (or from play) and find her limp in my apartment. Fearing that she would ever have to die alone just killed me. Which is why everytime I would leave home for work, to run errands, anything, I would tell her I loved her and kiss her little head. I wanted my voice and my face to be the last thing she saw until the next time she would see or hear me. I'm lucky though that I got to be with her until she breathed her last breath and she felt the warmth of my love surrounding her until the final moment of her life. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, January 10, 2004 Today was a beautiful day and people were out and about walking with their dogs. It made me sad cos I missed Cookie but also made me want to have a dog again. I don't think I"m ready yet, but as I said before, time heals. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, January 09, 2004 Today, I had to work late and ended up coming home nearly 11 p.m. It's lonely to come home and not have Cookie around. I'm tired, I'm grumpy and I really don't know what to do with myself. Cookie would have been the perfect answer to a long annoying day. She was always the perfect answer to any problem I had. She was the answer to all things good and gentle. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, January 08, 2004 This evening, I had dinner with my great-aunt. I heard our waitress talking about her dog to a regular customer saying something like, "Yeah, I took my dog with me, I just can't live without her." During dinner, I realized that I had never told my great-aunt about Cookie -- someone I too thought I couldn't live without. Somehow, I just couldn't find the words to talk about it. I hoped that maybe my mom had told her and my aunt figured not to bring it up. On the drive home from dinner though, she said, "Oh, I heard you lost your pet." My stomach dropped and did again when she asked why I hadn't told her. "I thought my mom told you," I said to her. Actually, I did think this, but apparently my cousin had mentioned it to her. I began to tell her the story of Cookie's death. Driving down the tree lined street full of expensive houses this winter night, all I could think of was telling the story as it happened and not to think about how it made me feel. I couldn't exactly let the conversation about Cookie go and not elaborate. Everytime we had dinner, I would always tell my great-aunt some funny story about Cookie or what she was/wasn't up to. By the end of the story though, I felt myself choking back the tears, so much so that anyone hearing the story wouldn't know I even cared. My story was very factual, very brief. But I think maybe she knew what I was doing. She told me everytime my 2nd cousin talked about his dog Smokey dying, he too would get pretty choked up. I told her this was the first time I had told the story out loud without crying. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Tuesday, January 06, 2004 Lately, I noticed that when I wake up, Cookie isn't the first thing on my mind anymore -- maybe the 2nd or the 3rd, but not the 1st. When she was alive, the first thing I would do when I woke up was to touch her to make sure she was still breathing. I know it's awful to say, but she was old and had a pretty severe heart murmur. I always feared I would lose her in the night. Even after she first died, my hand would go to the space on the bed where she slept. As a few weeks passed by, I just remembered Cookie when I woke up and wished she were with me still. Now though, I think of her, but it's usually after something else; and the thought of her is the acceptance that she is gone. I no longer greet an empty room when I come home or before I leave for the day and when I don't, I understand that I am moving on and that the pain is lessened a bit. Really though, it makes me feel sadder because it is a reminder that my little dog is gone. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Monday, January 05, 2004 Tonite, while burning holiday pictures on disc for my family, I came across this picture I took of Cookie about four days before she passed:  I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that Cookie was dying which is why I took pictures of her in her bed, at home, just in case she didn't come back. Looking at her face now, I see the pain and the sadness that I didn't want to completely see at the time. Actually, seeing these pictures really breaks my heart because I had to have known then, I was losing her. But, seeing the picture, also immediately reminds me what it was like to hold her and touch her, what she smelled like, the little noises she made...all things I feared I was slowly forgetting. All of this also reminds me of the day I took her to the VCA Hospital (the week before) and they ran tests on her. I was so worried, but hopeful. Then, I got the phone call that Cookie was responding well to the IV and that she started eating more. The vet was hopeful and certainly, so was I. I remember hanging up the phone and then dancing around my apartment relieved that I didn't have to say good-bye yet. Once again, the dog I thought would live to be 50 was beating the odds of being sick and would pull through. I was scared that my feeling of relief was premature, but who could argue with the vet? I didn't want to listen to the nagging feeling inside my gut that told me not to celebrate too soon. I hate when I'm right. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Sunday, January 04, 2004 Each time I lose someone in my life, I not only grieve their loss, but I am reminded of others I have lost through the years. All of the pain and emptiness I once felt comes flooding back to me and I must learn how to pick up the pieces yet again, but this time with the weight and burden of yet another loss. With every loss, I experience a resurgence of so many emotions. The heart that was forced to heal, cracks just a little bit again, a little deeper and each time, with a little more permanence. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Saturday, January 03, 2004 I don't know what it will be like to go home tomorrow to an empty apartment. Happy New Year, you're alone. I never really felt alone before. Quite honestly, I realize that I'm not alone, but having Cookie gave me something I don't know how to put into words. I never fully realized what it was either until she was gone. "Someday she will leave you," I told myself, but I knew it wouldn't be for awhile. I tried to imagine what my life would be like without Cookie, but I could never quite fathom what it would be like. I wasn't prepared for the emptiness and the understanding of how much she gave me everyday she was in my life. You never quite know how tough it will be until it happens. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Friday, January 02, 2004 This weekend I'd like to do nothing. I want nothing more than to just sit around at home and relax. Well, that and not think about going to work on Monday. It's still pretty hard to sit around now when it's just me and no Cookie. I'm in one of those moods where I want to be alone, but not completely alone. Other human beings would be too much company, but someone around like Cookie would be the right kind of company for me. She was always the right kind of company for me though. posted by lisa | linkorama | | Thursday, January 01, 2004 Happy New Year everyone who does (not) read this blog. :) The other day, while visitng with a few friends, I was forced to see the relatively new dogs of one of my friends. I didn't really want to see these dogs thinking I would have to put on a brave face and be reminded of Cookie. Fortunately though, I made it through ok and actually had a really good time. I played with these adorable dogs named Buddy & Peanut and was reminded of how good it feels to be around dogs at all. I thought of Cookie, but I wasn't immediately sad or depressed or even feeling like I betrayed her for feeling happy around another dog. Bonding with these dogs in the short amount of time I did, reminded me that when the time comes for me to have another dog, I will be ok. I could love a dog and not feel compelled to compare it to Cookie as I thought, I could play and treat it with love and care in it's own special and unique way. Cookie, is special to me and will always be my first real pet and I couldn't love her more still. I just can't have another Shih Tzu or dog that really resembles Cookie. When I thought I would rescue/become foster parent to another Shih Tzu, I just broke down in tears. The thought of another dog living in Cookie's space, using ANY of her belongings just killed me (and actually still does). So not until I move into another home will I get another dog. I need time to adjust to my life without Cookie, but when the time comes, I think I will be ok. posted by lisa | linkorama | | |
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