I completely lost my shit on the phone. Hello, ma’am. Are you there?
Yes, I’m here. I just can’t breathe. I am calling the vet for a recommendation for at-home pet euthanasia services and I cannot make the words come out of my mouth. I can’t say euthenasia. It sounds like a lost continent. I’d rather be on that continent. Even if it’s like a tundra, where even a bug is meat. I’d rather be standing on the battlefield between two warring tribes of outermost Euthenasia than saying the word euthenasia in reference to my sweet, first, canine baby.
Oh God, that tundra thing is something my mom used to say. The tundra: where even a bug is meat. Where did that come from? I can’t even remember the context.
I can’t say goodbye to Hudson.
But it’s time.
And I’ve been here before. Saying goodbye when I was absolutely not fucking ready. Feeling all of the Kübler-Ross stages of grief at the same time in one debris-flying tornado of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
I said the word. I got a recommendation and I made the appointment. We are going to say goodbye soon.
Here comes the tornado again. Damn it to Euthenasia, that hell-hole of a continent!
And there goes any chance of making 2015 a less potty-mouthed year. Good thing that was someone else’s resolution that I was thinking of stealing. I’ll have to make another–maybe something more positive. Something not stolen. Yup, not stealing is a good start.
So, here’s to more laughter, more love, more making and revisiting of great memories with creatures big and small, and more ice cream in 2015.
Here’s to sweet Hudson.