Pets, breakdowns, and love

I had quite the break down 2 nights ago. And it's been hard even considering writing about it. But I've been nothing but open and honest here. And in turn, you have done the same.

I was surrounded with much sorrow on Monday. Starting with watching a tv show where a tragic death of a main character rubbed me raw. Then there was the usual sickness that I endure each evening after dinner - nausea, panic, pain. I was in the middle of trying to get back to normal, when my fiance left to go drop off something at my sister's house.

When he was there, he rescued a beautiful parakeet from a cat. The bird looked bad. Be it sick, wounded or even having a heart attack. Who knows. He rushed home to bring me the bird so I could work my usual magic when it comes to rescuing animals.

Sadly, the bird did not make it. He died just around the corner. My sister had warned me of the bird and so I was all ready for it. I had a soft towel, water dropper, things to clean it's wounds, had made a list of food to pick up for the guy, and even the emergency vet clinic ready for us, should the need be. All this, I managed in ten minutes.

But it was not to be. We opened the box, and his little birdy body was lifeless. I scooped him up anyway. I rubbed his neck, held him close to my chest. I rubbed his stomach, I lifted him to my ear to listen for something, anything. We both held him and we cried. We held him till his body started to stiffen, then wrapped him in a towel and placed him in a box. We've been trying to find his owners (as he was a pet, parakeets don't normally live wild here) in case they want to bury him. But haven't heard anything, so we'll find him a nice spot in the backyard.

This of course, left a bad feeling with us for the rest of the day.

A couple hours later, we noticed that my dog has been coughing quite a bit lately. So at 11pm, we take her to the emergency pet clinic. They think she has kennel cough, though they didn't test for it. It could just be a cold for all they know. But we've got her on antibiotics and cough meds, and she needs to be isolated from other dogs for a week. How she got it, I'll never know. It's highly contagious but only from dogs or people with sick dogs. As far as I know, my dog hasn't come in contact with either.

While were at the clinic, a family came in with their cat. The sounded truly in distress. And then the wailing started. Not the cat, the cat's owner. And my heart sank. As we were sitting there in an exam room, being given fairly good news considering (it didn't spread to her lungs, she'll be ok) and we're listening to a woman mourn. Her cat did not make it.

I got flashes then. Of when we put down my 16 year cat (Kelli) with kidney failure. She was angry as all get out when they gave her the shot that would put her to sleep for good. I hated knowing in her last moments, she was so angry. I held her as she went limp and watched the light go out of her eyes.

Then there was Sasha... My dear Sasha. A chow chow shepard mix. Only 4 years old. She injured her knee and needed surgery. This was maybe 8 years ago. But to this day, I still cry and beat myself up over what happened next. Her surgery went well, but they said she was peeing blood. She was not to walk up the stairs to my room. She hated that. So I slept with her on the floor downstairs. In spite of the dr's orders, she taught herself to walk again that first night home.

But she got sick. So sick. She threw up everything. Water, her pills, one bite of food. She kept trying to pee and nothing would come out. I constantly bugged the vet about this. They figured the pain meds were just making her nauseous. No one listened to me.

Exactly one week after her surgery, she died. Just like that one. The night before, I had desperately wanted sleep. So I went upstairs to my room. Sasha wanted to follow me so badly. And the look in her eyes... God, she knew. She knew it was her last night, and she wanted to be near me. That look haunts me, even today.

The next thing I know, my mom is waking me. "Sasha won't get up and she's breathing funny." Then I hear my sister's voice ring out, "Sasha no! No! God no! Breathe!"

I tore down those stairs, hating myself for having not been near her. For abandoning her. For not doing more. My baby girl, who always had to be touching me to sleep, who always guarded me against even flies, was gone.

I still feel guilty. And I've also become hyper vigilant about my pets now.

The vet office also felt bad, so they did an autopsy for free and found her stomach had burst. Turns out this is a possible side effect of one of the anti inflammatory meds they gave her before her surgery. They also cremated her for free and donated money in her memory to a pet research center.

Sasha went first. Then Kelli years later. I cremated her as well because it felt right to honor her the same as Sasha.

So of course, these memories came rushing back to me after returning home from the clinic. I went into the storage room and started ripping open boxes and throwing things all over the place. I was on a mission. To find Sasha and Kelli. The box with their ashes and favorite toys and collars and such. I drank Jack Daniels like it was my salvation and I cried.

Now here's the thing, as much as it hurts to lose a pet, I will continue to rescue and raise them. Some people find me crazy for putting myself through it. The loss never gets easier. And maybe it'll keep adding on and keep building up until my heart shatters so hard that it can't be put back together. But I keep on letting animals into my life. I have too much love to give them. They need homes, they need love, they need a good life. And so, even if it hurts, I will keep on taking in rescues. I will give them forever homes. And I will love them even after they are gone. They need me. And I need them. And even tho the mourning hurts like a bitch, the good memories and the love makes it all worth it.