You don't have to read this, I totally understand if my pets bored you.
Yesterday it was one year since we had to say goodbye to the best little dog I've ever had in my life, our beloved Pudgy Princess.
One year later, our hearts still ache. We still haven't cleaned the dirty spot on the wall in the bathroom where she used to sleep, I just this past week took her bed to throw away (it was virtually brand new, so our Grumpy Princess had claimed it as her own).
I still remember the sad little face I first saw in a photo of her, and I burst into tears and told my husband we had to give her a home. She was 11, and many of you know in rescues, it's hard for older dogs to find their forever home. My parents even tried to talk me out of it, saying we didn't know how long she would have at that age, and I just been devastated at the loss of my corgi bear just a few short weeks before. I told everyone well, then those last few months of her life will be the best she ever had.
And it was. Pudgy went everywhere with us. Folks at the apartment building we lived in knew her as my "shadow". If I went to get the mail, she went with me. Take the trash down to the basement, she hopped in the elevator with me and down we went. When DH would leave for work each afternoon, we'd go for a walk and go get our afternoon caffeine. No one knew she was 11, then 12 - they all thought she was at least 5 years younger. Her obsession with treats was something I had never seen before, and I think every pet supply store knew her within a 20 mile radius. If you think I'm kidding - I'm not. It was nothing for us to hit up 3 or 4 in ONE DAY when DH had a day off. Nearly every day we'd make a trip to at least one.
And when her beloved Daddy came home each night, she was waiting. When we decided we'd had enough of the apartment dramas, and went looking for a house of our own, the very first requirement was that it had a fenced yard for Pudgy to hang out in. This place fit the bill, but as we quickly learned, she hated this yard. I can count on one hand the amount of times she actually went in the backyard. Pudgy was more of a city girl, and I think she really missed our afternoon caffeine runs and late night walks around the neighborhood.
The night before we made the emergency run to the vet, all was normal - she went flying down the stairs to greet her daddy, and complained like she always did when he went to kiss me. When we woke up the next morning, she didn't want to get up. When she finally did, she could hardly walk. We went straight to our regular vet, only to be sent on to the Emergency Clinic because her number were so dire. I went to bed that night, fully believing our little girl would be coming home the next day.
And that's the worst part of our grief. Not even her remains came home, because some idiot threw our baby girl out like she was trash. Our anger for this clinic, for taking nearly two weeks to own up to their mistake, will never stop. I pray every day that no one else ever has to feel the pain we do because someone made this same mistake to them.
I write this crying, like I do often, and my little Captain is on my laps trying to comfort me. I know that if Pudgy was still alive, they wouldn't be here, and most likely neither one would be alive right now. I know, and I love them both so very much, but I still miss Pudgy. I hope she's stuffing her face on cookie at the Rainbow Bridge.