It’s been a little over a month since my little Bird left us.
It’s taken almost six weeks, but I think I’ve finally realized that she’s not coming back. All this time, it’s felt like she’s been somewhere else, just temporarily, and eventually she’ll just home come and we can resume life as normal. I’m fairly certain that’s why I still haven’t been back to the vet to collect her ashes. It’s too final.
But I suppose I’ll need to do that eventually.
There were many little daily adjustments that had to be made. Daily heartbreaks really. Chloe couldn’t/wouldn’t go down the wooden stairs (carpet were fine), so it became habit for me, when leaving the house, to scoop up Eli, turn and scoop up Chloe, and head downstairs. I kept turning…but there was no Chloe waiting for me to pick up.
At night, I’d feel around the bed for her, or just expect to see her blonde fur. But nothing. No Chloe.
Watching Sammy be depressed was also heartbreaking. How do you explain to a dog that his big Sis is not coming home? I’m glad though, that finally, Sammy does seem better. He’s moving on.
And so am I. I don’t cry every day – although, sitting down to write this post I’ve burst a pipe. I try not to think about her too much, to be honest, because it’s such a helpless feeling.
People have asked if we are planning on getting another dog, and I’m fairly certain the answer is yes. Not yet, but eventually. Sammy really can’t stand Eli, and it would be nice for him to have a shot with a dog who may play with him and enjoy him a little. But that’s what another dog would be – another dog – not a replacement. It’s clear to me that Chloe was my special dog, and I can’t really expect to have another Chloe, because one just doesn’t exist. I get that.
In the meantime, this guy:
Is pretty much being spoiled rotten. He’s getting table scraps (GASP), endless cuddles, and lots of long walks. I can’t really help the spoiling. One of the things that killed me with Chloe, was that I didn’t let her have much in the way of people food, because it messed up her stomach. She LOVED chicken, though, in an obsessive, odd sort of way (one of the reasons we called her “Bird”), and it broke my heart that she didn’t get to eat it as often as she would have liked. So I’m compensating with Sammy, I suppose. Nothing bad for him or processed, of course. But he’s a funny dog who loves his veggies, juicer pulp, and fruit, in addition to whatever meat James is cooking up.
Is also soaking up the extra love. And both of my furry boys have been extra sweet to me, so I appreciate that.
And of course, I’ve got these two:
And now, if you were wondering how the sugar detox is going…
Now you know.