26
Jun
2017
11

Grieving the death of my dog

I’m grieving the death of my dog and I hope everyone knows it’s okay.

I’ve been meaning to write a blog post about missing my dogs for a while now. No offence to the Australian humans I love and adore but my dogs are literally the biggest reason I get homesick. I spent a whole year back in my hometown with Daisy, my dad’s dog, and Chelsea, my (now ex) boyfriend’s dog. Leaving them to come back to the UK was ridiculously hard. They both knew something was up when I was saying goodbye, they got really weird and quiet and tried to follow me. I’m tearing up just writing about it.

It’s shit that sometimes in life your happiness is conditional to a bit of sadness. I mean, I could have stayed in my small hometown and received the small day-to-day joys of spending time with the dogs, but I would have lost out on the bigger joys of pushing myself in my career and travelling.

Chelsea Dawg

Daisy Dawg

Of course if I had made the decision to adopt my own dog, that would be another story, I’d have that responsibility. But I have never done that because I don’t lead a life friendly to dog-adoption at the moment. I just accidentally fell in love and they unknowingly fell in love with someone who was always going to leave them.

You know why I think I love them so much? Because they make me laugh. They bring me so much happiness through laughter. I love humans that make me laugh too. In fact, I can tell you right now that if you and I don’t have genuine belly laughs together, we’ll never truly be close friends. And the dogs made me do big laughs. I’d hang out with them for entire days and just laugh at them. THEY’RE SO FUNNY. They should get into comedy.

Dogs just have the most incredible little personalities and they love and respect you so much. They love you every day, all the time, no matter what. Even if you boss them around and don’t share your food. They just want to be with you because they think you are the best. I was my dogs’ favourite human because I represented fun and adventure. I walked them and ran with them and went exploring. We lay in the sun all the time and just forgot about the world. I also spoke to them in a really high-pitched voice which they loved, and let them sit on the couch when no one was looking.

And I let her in bed in the morning after Dan left

I actually remember reading an article about a lady who loved her dog more than her teenage son because her son was grumpy and dismissive and her dog wanted cuddles all the time. I mean that’s a little extreme in dog lovin’, but I kind of sort of get it in a bad-mother sort of way. They’re actually the epitome of living in the moment. They don’t hold grudges towards you for leaving them at home all day, they jump and rejoice that you’ve come back.

Dogs bring so much joy to a human and life would be SO GOD DAMN GREAT if we could text message them.

Happy dawg

But on Friday morning I received a heart-breaking text telling me that Chelsea had been hit by a car and died. I cried in bed for about an hour and ended up having to leave work because I kept tearing up. I just needed to be able to burst into tears freely and I went home and did that with chocolate.

It’s a weird feeling because I already missed her desperately and now that I know she is dead I still just desperately miss her. Where does that feeling go? Would the desperation of missing her eventually have subsided even if she had lived and I never saw her again? Or will I forever desperately miss her now?

Chelsea was my baby and I feel like I let her down by leaving her. I don’t know how their beautiful little minds work, but I’m hoping she didn’t miss me the same way I missed her. I’m hoping that dogs eventually forget that you haven’t returned, they just keep on focussing on the now. And I’m hoping that when I see Daisy she jumps and rejoices like I will when I see her.

Rest in Peace, Chelsea. I love you soooooooooooooooooo much. #Ballingmyeyesoutnow

And massive thoughts with Dan who lost his best friend xx

I love you forever Chelsea dawg xxxxxx

SUBSCRIBE TO COMFORT IS FOR WIMPS