anniversary

LINK: anniversary

Currently listening to: Big Empty – Stone Temple Pilots

Too much walkin’, shoes worn thin
Too much trippin’ and my soul’s worn thin
Time to catch a ride, it leaves today, her name is what it means
Too much walkin’, shoes worn thin

Today marks her memorial anniversary, and even though time has passed, the pain never really goes away. I still find myself thinking about her goofy smile and the way she insisted on being a lap dog, even though at her heaviest she weighed nearly 80 pounds. She never understood just how big she was; to her, she was always my baby.

She was the toughest girl I’ve ever known. From the very beginning, her life wasn’t easy. When she was rescued, I found her sitting on a desk chair, her leg in a cast, already scarred by abuse. This was my first glimpse into her resilience. She survived more than most ever could: a brain tumor, a mouth tumor, degenerative disc disease, a torn ACL, and urinary tract + bladder infections that were chronic.

She underwent multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation therapies, never-ending stream of antibiotic treatments, and acupuncture. She was fed top of the line foods (she ate better than I did— prime steaks, wild caught fishes, and organic turkey breasts) and given supplements such as lion’s mane, vitamins, and collagen. I even bought her multiple Tempur-Pedic doggy beds to provide comfort and support for her joints and spine.

I fought alongside her every step of the way. I paid a fortune to keep her health insurance going. Every few months, the premium seemed to increase bit by bit. Towards the end, I was paying nearly $900 a month (which is comparable to a human’s, if not more). I understood why, though. She had a team of seven doctors: an oral surgeon, primary care vet, oncologist, neurologist, acupuncturist, orthopedic surgeon, and radiologist. I had regularly scheduled calls and appointments with her doctors. It took all these specialists to keep her going, and somehow, against the odds, she made it to fifteen. For a pit bull, thats a long life, but to me, it wasn’t nearly long enough.

When she turned fifteen, I celebrated her birthday and had a quinceañera dress tailor-made for her by a woman on Etsy, even though I’m not Hispanic… maybe Hispanic by proxy at best since most of my Mexican friends have adopted me as one of their own. On her birthday we visited all her doctors’ offices, bringing dessert treats for the staff who had helped her stay with me as long as she did.

But a few months after that milestone, her health declined sharply. She stopped eating, began losing weight, and I could see the fight slipping away. As much as I wanted her to keep going, I knew she was tired. I asked her primary care vet to come to the house so she wouldn’t have to spend her final moments in a clinic (I learned my lesson with my cat). She passed peacefully, surrounded by her plushies and all the things she loved most, in the comfort of her own home. I was able to give her a bath shortly after. Upon her passing, she released stool and urine (which is normal even for humans) and she was particular about being clean.

The days that followed were very lonely for me. I slipped into a depressed state of mind. I was caught between the relief that she was no longer suffering and the emptiness of not having her by my side. She was my companion, my confidant, my fur baby, my steady presence for so many years. She was the reason I looked forward to going home every day after work. She was the reason why I worked hard so that she could keep her insurance. And to suddenly have that ripped away… it left me lost and spiraling.

She gave me everything she had, right up until the end, and though I know she’s at peace, I’ll always miss her. She was the loml (love of my life).