In Memory of My Best Friend...

Katy
4/25/00 - 10/11/06

It's hard to describe to non-pet owners about how it feels to lose a pet. Most pet owners would say it was like losing a best friend or family member.

For me, Katy was both.

I spoke some time ago of the day we met. Myself, the struggling photographer stuck in Houston for a summer who just happened to drive by one day, Katy the sleepy golden puppy who seemed to have not one care in the world.

The polar ice cap surrounding my heart melted as I stared into those sweet brown eyes that day. I knew that we were going to be best pals through thick and thin.

Flash forward 6.5 years later.

I received a frantic phone call last night as I was attempting to finish an order that I had due out early today. "Get here quick," the voice pleaded between sobs, "Katy's been hit by a car. I think... I think she's dead."

It was one of those moments when time stops. The only thing you are aware of is your breathing as the primal instinct of protecting your loved ones takes over. The car runs on automatic, using only the small part of your brain that is not otherwise occupied.

I arrived to find my little girl in the trunk of a car. She had been moved from the scene of the accident the only way that the person who called me could. The police had come and gone and I briefly recall myself asking why no one had tried CPR on her, forgetting briefly that I was talking about a dog and not a human.

I opened the trunk and there she was, still warm yet limp and lifeless. Her eyes were opened slightly and I could see from the lack of any movement and by the condition of her rib cage as I picked her up that she was indeed gone.

The next thing I can remember is cleaning my garage. Somehow I had moved her from the trunk to my truck to the garage without even realizing how long it took.

I had fetched her bed and laid her on it, having gently wrapped her up in her favorite blanket. It was then, as I stared at her when I finally lost it. She looked like she was just taking a nap, that she would hear my voice and would somehow spring to life again.

Since it was late, the vet was closed. I had to make arrangements for her... Funeral? Burial? What, I didn't know.

I rent, so I knew right away that I couldn't just pick out a nice spot in the back yard for her. I had briefly thought about asking my folks if I could bury her on their property, but a part of me knew fairly well that they probably wouldn't be amused by such a request. They might grudgingly agree, but I just don't think it was worth the drama.

I called the emergency number of the vet and contacted the local shelter. My choices were few. No one could take her in until 8 AM the next day for the purposes of cremation and the only other option that the people who answered the phone gave me was to take her to the shelter and place her in the dumpster they use for animal body disposal.

Dump my Katydid in a dumpster? I think the words "fuck" and "no" seemed to follow one another in rapid succession.

So, I did the only thing that I could do. I had a few beers and a big cry.

The place was littered with little reminders of her everywhere. A picture here, a tennis ball there, her leash hanging silently from the peg on the wall.

I don't remember sleeping more than an hour or two last night. I had a long talk with my brother, who above all I knew would understand. I chatted with my friend Trystera on teh Internets well into the wee hours until I finally managed to pass out, going out to the garage one last time to wish Katy a good night's sleep. As ridiculous as that may sound to some, it's hard to break the habits of 6.5 years. Anyone stupid enough to tell me that I'm nuts for that can go die in a fire.

Also, the assholes in this world who smack into beloved family pets and don't even bother to either move the animal or attempt to call the owner by looking at the tags on their collars can ALSO die in a fire. To hear it correctly, the fucknut didn't even bother to stop. Just *thump* and "What was that? Oh well..." hit and run dickshittery.

Harsh? You're absolutely goddamned right. I'm grieving, so suck it.

Somehow, 7 AM creeped upon me and I rose to get ready for the unwelcome task ahead. I put on my grubby housework clothes and walked into the garage.

"Morning, Kate," I choked back a few tears when I realized that she wasn't jumping up to see me, tail wagging all the time, "it's time to get ready to go for one last ride in the truck."

I snipped a few hairs from her fluffy tail. I thought I'd wrap a little ribbon around them and put the bunch in with a picture I had taken of her a year back. I got the idea from after my grandmother died. The funeral home had clipped a few hairs from my grandma and placed the lock of hair inside a little picture frame and gave it to my grandfather after her cremation. I thought the idea was sweet.

After that, I wrapped another blanket around her. It needed to be done, let's just leave it at that.

With one big heave, I lifted her, dog bed and all, into the back of my truck. The ride to the vet was a short one. The people were very kind and helped me to bring her inside.

They placed her on an exam table and it was time to say my goodbyes. The vet left me alone with her for a few more minutes and I scratched her gently behind the ear one last time.

Goodbye, Katybelle. I will always love you, my fluffy friend...

Since the day we first met, Katy and I have seen quite a few times, both good and bad. We've survived a house fire, we've chased tennis balls like there was no tomorrow, been there during the trials and emotional upsets that life throws at you and we've gone on more rides in my truck than I can recall.

You know the thing I loved most about the Kate?

The fact that no matter how horrible a day I had, no matter who I had pissed off or offended in some way or another, whenever I walked into the house, she was always there to greet me. She was always genuinely happy to see me. She was loyal, always happy to lend an ear (providing I scratched it, of course :) ) and just the sweetest dog you'd ever meet.

I always felt loved when Katy was around, even if my pitching arm grew tired of lobbing tennis balls hither and yon. She was happiest when we were together and I just couldn't foresee a time when we wouldn't be. Six point five years was too goddamned short.

I will miss my fluffy golden, more than anyone could understand. If there truly is a dog heaven, may she have all the bones and steak that she can eat, chase all the tennis balls that she wants and swim in the big, blue river in the sky.

G'night, my dear. I hope that wherever you are, you're happy.