"Taffy's worse than ever. She's going to the vet's in the morning. I'm staying up with her for the night and probably going into the vet's with her, too. I figure I might as well camp TLPD while she's in my lap.
I had to give her a bath because she puked and then couldn't find the energy to move out of her puke. She can't do anything but lay down right now. If I wasn't careful she could've drowned in the bath. She's refused to eat these last few days. All she's had are her meds. I'm gonna try and get her to eat some tater tots."
Only a few minutes after I typed this, my darling dog, the person I have always loved more than anyone else, died. She died in my lap. She died kissing my arm. She died.
I don't know what to do. If she'd lasted ten more minutes, I'd have had her for nine years and seven days. But she didn't.
I miss her.
I don't need your condolences, your well wishes, or your advice. I don't want it, either. I just need someone to hear this, to see this, even though it's just the internet.
It's funny. I'm on WoW still, still waiting for the infamous TLPD to show his face. I don't know what else to do. I won't sleep. I won't read. I won't crochet. I won't eat. I can camp. I can do that.
And I can fix things. I can sit here and do the small amounts of policing in this forum that I've been doing. You can send me your woes and I can solve them. You can help me just by doing that.
My cat is here beside me. I think she misses Taffy, too. They were really close.
I don't even know what I'm trying to say here.
I can't even bury her. The ground is too hard and the javalinas would dig her up. And Animal Control in our town cremates pets and then puts them in a landfill, like she's just trash. But it's better than her being dug up and eaten by disgusting pigs.
I miss her. She was always there for me. She was there through the years when depression lingered. She kept me from killing myself; who would take care of her if I was gone? She cuddled and kissed and loved me always. I could do nothing wrong when it came to her.
But I did. I couldn't force her to take her antibiotics. She's dead because I couldn't get her to take her medicine. I'm a horrible mother.
She died in my lap, with my arms around her. I was cuddling her and petting her. And then she was gone and I was screaming for my mom and her tongue was hanging out the side of her mouth and she wouldn't breathe. And then we were putting her in a box with her bed and some blankets and putting her in the back of the truck while I was clutching a cat to my chest and sobbing. And then I was in a shower, screaming and crying after my mom asked if I'd like to spend the night with her and I said no.
What do I even do now? I'm nineteen and the companion I've had for almost half my life is gone.
Now all I have are two giant holes in my heart. One from a boy who broke me so bad I don't know if I'll ever be the same. And one from the dog who loved me so much no one else could ever compare.
This was my baby. This was my Taffy Ann Martin.
My little sister is in this last picture. It was taken on my birthday by me, the day we were told she was well enough to be taken back home. It was on the way home in my sister's jeep.
I miss her.
