u/kai_whitewolf

Today my childhood dog was put down. We got her when I was ten years old and she lived to be the same age (13) as I was when I moved to the United States. My parents reluctantly got her after a year of wielding the threat of divorce upon one another. Me and my sister were somewhat coincidentally visiting our parents this weekend and she had the last couple of days playing with her new puppy friend, begging at the dinner table, sharing bananas with me and doing all the things that we knew her to do. Then this morning she could barely left her head. She somehow dragged herself next to be in the dark room and laid there glassy eyed and heaving until the animal hospital could take her. We come to find out that she has severely progressed terminal cancer even though she had displayed no external symptoms that couldn’t be account by her old age and she was euthanized this afternoon.

All day long I had sinking feeling and I could sense in the air the moment I knew that she was going to die. My dog was the only constant across a hectic decade, my only friend in a new country where everyone but my family members were strangers, and even they were sometimes too.

I said my last goodbye to her and pet her under the sun. My father, who is stoic and massive, sobbed with pitched voice of a child. My mother cried with lashes of fury how unfair it was that she was here with us one day and gone the next. And as for myself I was so spent by that by the time she was dead I was too exhausted to cry and I found, terrifyingly, how their grief made me both so afraid and so angry. And the whole time it was somehow easier to swallow death than it was to face the crying faces of my parents, something I couldn’t do, so after we all sat on the couch and drank wine the moment the sobs started again I ran into my room and sucked on my weed pen and buried my face in the covers because the feeling of their crying, which should be a release, made me feel like the worst was only beginning. Their would be so much pain to confront, and their anger, and their weakness. I felt absurdly like how I was when I was ten and the new puppy was a distraction from all the fighting and lies and screaming and terror that those years of my life entailed. Somehow, now that she was gone, all that was invited into the world, a thing that makes no sense.

I could hear them sobbing and I started slamming doors to drown it out. I’m in my room and I can’t sleep because at the foot of my bed is the last place she laid and panted her final breathes and we gave each other what little comfort two animals can offer each other, which we will never be able to give again. All of us lost of our comfort, and I have none to give, and no one can give it to me.

I’m on my period and I took a test that was negative so I’m definitely not.

Most recently I dreamt that I found out I was pregnant and asked to open up my r*lationship so I could know what it’s like to be with a girl before I get tied down forever.

Giant meltdown arguments are also a common thread in my dreams. I don’t know whether it means I’m scared of them or it’s something I secretly desire.