Lexus, Im sorry. I sat on the floor patting your head and petting your body. Getting hair all over the leggings I try not to let hair get on. And I looked at you. Your body seemed so much grayer today. Grayer than even yesterday. I think. Or maybe not. Maybe it had been that way for some time And I hadn’t noticed. As I thought about how we were going to get you to the emergency vet I figured I could just take you in my Mary Kay car. (The Pilot has the car seats, and kids come first.) The car I said I’d never let you ride in because I didn’t want you to get it dirty. But it’s covered in Goldfish crackers now anyway. Again, the kids came first I hated you so much Because I loved you so much But was stripped of every piece of energy and emotion I had The kids left me with nothing. And that’s all you got And I felt horrible every time I breezed past you without even a pat Every time I put you outside with a, “hurry up Lexus” Because I had limited time to do it before someone started screaming I wish we could have ended the years the way we started them Buddies. Inseparable partners. Us against the world, I always said. You were my first pet My first experience at sacrificing for something else. If I had known the hours of comfort and sleep lost during your puppy years, As I let you sleep on my neck and monopolize the bed and push my neck into the wall, Were going to average out with the days I barely looked at you. I would have appreciated them more. If I had known our road trips to Illinois were going to be replaced by kenneling you so we could take the kids I would have remembered them more. If I had known the times I tried to take you for walks Would be replaced with you just lying on the floor so you could see us And be a part of the family. I would have made them happen more I hated you. Hated the pee inside. The claws on the floor. Hated you steeling the girls’ food. Hated you scavenging for food under the table. Hated it because it meant so many other things now came before you. Hated it because it reminded me that our lives were precariously balanced between hysterical meltdowns and I had little time or energy for your role in them. And I hated me for feeling that way. Hated that I couldn’t will myself, berate myself, or motivate myself to give you more attention. To drag some last nugget of ease or carefree lightheartedness to be silly with you. I didn’t want slobber all over myself. And after wiping butts, I didn’t want to wipe the drool from your face. I hope you didn’t really notice. I hope, as dogs often do, you noticed the good times. The times we picked you up and put you in the bed. Or let you get on the furniture again. Or had the girls play close to you so I could pet you. We tried, but not enough. And we knew it. But it was all we had. I’m sorry Lexus. And, I think, maybe, that’s all I was trying to say.
Posted on: Mon, 05 Jan 2015 02:57:24 +0000
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