They Say A Good Cry Is Therapeutic Part Two

They say a lot of things.

I got a box.  "Get her blanket," Shawn said.
"She doesn't have a blanket.  She has a pillow," I replied.
"Well, get that and we'll bury her with it."

Prissy's Hump Pillow was her most treasured toy.  She was nine months old when we got her and her owners gave us a tiny bed with a brown removable pillow.  IT was medium brown with black paw prints all over it.  Prissy would shake it like a rag doll, hump it until she was exhausted and drag it all over the house.  I patched that thing more times than I could count.  I've wanted to wash it for years, but I was always so afraid it would disintegrate in the wash.  It was her favorite toy to bring out while company was over and she would hump that thing right at their feet.

What else would I have done with it?  I could not throw it away.  I laid the pillow int he box and Shawn laid the little bundle on top of it ever so gently.  He grabbed two shovels and headed for the backyard where we picked a spot and he got to work.

I went into work mode.  I could not sit there, doing nothing.  I took out some trash, washed a sink full of dishes, scrubbed the bathroom.  I also spent a lot of time with Shawn as he dug and cried the entire time.  I looked down at my shirt.  A large brown stain was at the very center of it.  I pulled it up and smelled it.  "I have to go change my shirt," I announced.
"Why?" Shawn asked.
"Doody."  I was at this point that my voice choked up and cracked wildly.  "I didn't even realize!"

On Sunday, it was quite painful for Prissy to get into any kind of position to pee and I knew she hadn't gone poo-poo.  She must have leaked onto me while I held her.  It completely broke my heart.

I had called the Vet and asked the receptionist if it would be alright if I came by the next day to pay the bill and she said it would be alright.  I burst into tears and cried out to God, "I could really use some comfort right now!"  Call me crazy; I really don't care at this point.  I was sitting with my face in my hands and as soon as the words were out of my mouth I saw in my mind an image so perfect, I could reach out and touch it.  Prissy was running.  It was very sunny & clear and there were trees in the background.  I couldn't see what she running on but I could see her.  I could almost reach out and touch her.  Her skin was taught and her fur was silky and smooth and she seemed so happy.  It only lasted a second.

Around 11 am Shawn hit rock and could not dig any further.  We went into the living room and he opened the box.  I'd been wanting to open it for a couple of hours.  Part of me wanted to make sure she was really gone.  Part of me was terrified we'd be burying our dog alive.  But her little face after it happened....I knew she was not there.  I argued with myself over it.

Shawn gingerly opened the box and stroked the towel crying, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" over and over again.  I cried openly.  Afterward, I merely wanted to sleep, to escape so I took two Benadryl.  Lucky for me, I am a light weight when it comes to any sort of drug so if I am in pain, the simplest of allergy medications will knock me out in a heartbeat.  I put in the last of the Shrek movies and lay with Lucy curled up in my chest and Shawn hugging us both. 

In my fog, I knew the phone ranhg two different times.  I had known that Shawn had gotten up.  I woke up around 2:30 and Shawn soon came into the bedroom.  "She's been with you this whole time," he said, speaking of Lucy.

Later, Lucy headed outside onto the giant slab of concrete that preceded the lawn. She walked forward one or two feet, stopped, and looked toward the door.  She waited a few seconds.  She started forward again, stopped and looked. 

I spent the rest of the day crying and talking with Shawn.  He said that we can take some comfort in knowing that she died with those who loved her most.  "If I have a choice, that's how I want to go," Shawn said.  One thing I struggled with in that private room at the Vet's was what if we make the wrong decision?  Shawn has been struggling with a lot of guilt because he the one to put it into words.  He's hold me and shake violently, saying, "I'm sorry, don't me mad at me, I'm so sorry!" over and over. 

Shawn mentioned again and again how this how situation sucked.  Just flat our sucks.  "It's like," he began, "you have to choose between guilt and selfishness.  Do you keep them for you?  Or do you do what's best for them?"   Something else he'd said many times was, "She was good to us and we had to be good to her."

I have to remind him of the sounds Prissy had made, that we made the right decision. 

I spent most the day trying to stay awake, even through fits of bawling.  Nearing bedtime, I slammed my head straight into the edge of the refrigerator and I'm not even sure how it happened.  I blame the Benadryl fog.  I know two was too much, but I was so desperate to escape.  I hit my eyebrow very squarely and fell straight to the floor.  I held my face and just cried.  Shawn, on his way tot he other room for a smoke, passed by and saw what had happened.  He sat down, scooped me up and it suddenly became much less about the pain in my face.

At some point, I'd fallen asleep.  I awoke to Shawn calling Lucy quietly toward the hallway for bedtime.  I reminded him that she gets a joint supplement.  It was a couple minuets later that I could hear Shawn sobbing from the other end of the house.

Lucy had stopped at the door and waited.  Shawn scooted her into the kitchen but Lucy was apparently waiting for Prissy.  After her bribe/treat, Lucy headed to the corner where the two dog beds are.  She looked one, looked in the other, looked around, and eventually settled in Prissy's bed.  This is where Shawn lost it.