Loss and being Human

The first time I realized that I was actually human and capable of those feelings I was 19 and lost a boyfriend that I thought I needed or would die. When the breakup happened I really did hurt so bad that I wanted to die. Up until that time I had developed a skin that would not let me need someone.  Would not let me care. That was developed because of a mentally abusive father who left me with control issues.

Looking back, I can see that basically I was really upset and hurt that I couldn't control that situation.  The reason we broke up was beyond my control. It was religion.  I had met an immovable object for this guy. I wasn't as much upset that I lost him, but that I couldn't control him and the situation.

I have hit another one of those situations. And this one really makes me hurt. I hurt to the very tips of my toes. And it has nothing to do with control.

Having dogs put down has always been my job in the family.  The hard-hearted person.  And I have always had them put down for health reasons and therefore I knew I was doing the better thing and would get over it easily.  

This thing, though, I can't get over.  My little yorkie, TJ "Fuzzy", was hit by a car this week here in the campground where we live. It was hit and run, the guy didn't have the decency to stop and tell me about my beloved little boy.

When I wake up in the morning I miss his morning greeting and cuddle. I miss his yapping little voice when he wants to play or hears a noise, any noise, outside. I miss seeing him come on the deck sopping wet where he has been in our fountain water feature in the backyard. I miss his little head peeking in the window and his tapping on the window when he is ready to come in.  He was always at my feet, even in the bathroom and had to be in there most of the time with me, even when I was taking a shower. I even miss his eagerness to have a morsel of my food when I am eating. 

I have a beagle mix left, but it isn't the same. Penny doesn't like to cuddle and doesn't climb easily up onto my lap or into my arms. She doesn't fit in the fountain, she doesn't like to be babied. If Penny somehow gets out of the door without her chain, she is gone until nightfall or too tired to keep hunting, whichever comes first.

TJ gave me four years of happiness and unconditional love and was willing to give so much more. . .