I’m a dog lover, I always have been, probably always will be. I just love the unconditional ability they have to love you. I think that a dog has the ability to love you more than you could love yourself. That’s why for me, it’s always been a no brainer to have a dog in my life. For me a dog is your best friend, you couch potato partner and walking companion. A dog in your life is happiness beyond you can imagine.
I don’t know how many people constantly read my blog or even read it at all. But a few months ago against all my better judgment and protest, my mother got small dog named Bear. Well, shortly after that she got another one named Bambi. My stance still remains the same on the topic of my parents having animals. They do not know how to properly take care of animals and do not have the patients when it comes to training or puppy lifestyle. Let’s face it while it’s adorable the puppy lifestyle can be a vigorous test of sanity.
Last week Bear got really sick and was rushed to the hospital. He had a very high fever and was kept at the hospital for five days. He was placed on a drip and was brought home a lot thinner but alive and safe. Four days after Bear was admitted Bambi was the next to fall ill. Unfortunately, things did not end well for Bambi. This morning I got the call from my mother that Bambi has passed.
I’m filled with a lot of feelings on this one, I feel bad because I knew that those dogs didn’t stand a chance. I feel bad because a puppy died. I feel bad because I feel like there was nothing I could do. I also feel bad because there was absolutely nothing I could do. Mixed with these feelings I also feel angry and bitter because this is the 2nd dog to become suddenly become sick and die under my parents care.
The “I told you so” screaming from inside me isn’t strong enough to demonstrate just how I’m annoyed by this situation. My heart hurts for the life lost and I may even feel a little bad for my mother who is completely distraught over this dog. My father handles the situation once again with flying colors as he chuckles on the sidelines and makes jokes about the little machine going beep, beep, beep… beeeeeeeepppppp.
My father has never been the sensitive kind. He never understood the “just shut up and be there” concept of helping someone grief. Nor has he ever handled big life changing news well. I found out about having a half-sister while I was scooping out gerbil poop from a cage. He found that funny as well. But I won’t take you into that life time drama award.
My little sister is also a dog lover, while she was home there was no hiding that she was the one solely responsible for keeping these dogs alive. She fed them, took them outside, and handled watching over them. All the things my mother should have been doing because they are her dogs. I think it will be hard on her simply because every time she leaves for college an animal dies when left without her care.
When the dogs first got sick I told my mother to take them to the vet. She called me three times to complain that day and all three times I told her to be an adult and take your pet to the vet. Still after all is said and done I feel sad and I feel bad. I feel like I could have done more and I feel like they should have listened to me sooner. I know there was nothing I could have done, I know her death is not my fault but does that get me off the hook when I sat by idly watching and complaining about the care or lack thereof that they were getting?
Point blank this feeling sucks.
Happy Friday the 13th on a day that for me at least isn’t so happy.