It’s been a year since my dog died. I didn’t even remember.
I saw her in a dream last night, and then I recalled that bittersweet morning:
Ria’s heart was enlarged and she was compelled to take rapid short breaths in order to live. When my Mom told me what was going on, I left my apartment to drive back to Jersey City so that I can say my goodbyes. Suddenly, I was asked to take her to the veterinarian for one last time.
I didn’t think she would survive the night, but next morning, she sat there looking at me with her innocent deep eyes, breathing heavily over and over again.
She loved bathing in the sun and riding shotgun in my car. As morbid as it may sound, I knew that her time was up when she refused to eat my french fries (She would never refuse a french fry). I put on a coat and I brought her into my car. That’s when I started to weep. I apologized for not being the best master I could’ve been. I felt ashamed and filled with regret–I’ve never had to say goodbye like this, not even for a human being. I said everything I wanted to say, and I could only hope that she understood.
Once we arrived to the vet’s house, I prayed with her for five more minutes, as she basked in the bright morning rays. Then, I reluctantly picked her up and walked to the front door. Nobody heard the bell when I rang it.
“I guess they just don’t feel like gettin’ rid of ya, huh Ria?” I joked bewilderingly.
I rang it a second time and I saw someone walking over. Then suddenly, it happened.
She began to rustle in her blanket and gave three painful barks. She died in my arms that Sunday Morning.
Ria was an incredibly stubborn dog. And even in her deathbed, she refused to die if it weren’t in her own terms. She was such a diva. And I loved her for it. ♣