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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, 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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