The Paw Print Left Behind (5.13.20)

The Brandi girl went to doggy happy land on July 31, 2019. Looking back, I’m sure she knew that life was going to get pretty shitty (I ended up being quasi-homeless between October & December, 2019 due to a severe plumbing malfunction-related, forced, and eventually permanent relocation from my apartment to hotels, Air B&Bs, homes of kind strangers who have since become friends, finally to another apartment that is located slap bang in the middle of a Covid hotspot area in NJ. I swear — you can’t make this shit up).

The timing of her rather hasty departure (4 hours between stroke and being put to sleep) makes me suspect that Brandi’s super power doggie intelligence told her that, after 10 crazy years with Momma Maya, it was time for her to go chase rabbits in doggy heaven while Momma (in a literal sense) figured her shit out. She always was a smart, smart pooch (I mean, just look at that face 🤣).

Given my mind’s unfortunate proclivity toward going down rabbit holes (and, perhaps, in an effort to manage fear & anxiety about eventual, unavoidable sorrow), I had wondered in the last two years of Brandi’s life what it would be like after she dies. I would imagine missing her, and not missing the responsibility of having a pooping machine for a canine (if you took her for 5 walks on a given day, she would poop five times). I can line up people Brandi deigned to allow to take care of her to back me up on this claim. Once, a dog sitter asked me in wonder, ‘She eats normal amounts. Where does all that poop come from?’

Where from, indeed? I had this thought today morning that Brandi was processing not only her own digestive material, but crap from the whole world (to a significant extent, doggy gut-wise). She pooped so much because she took in garbage from the world by osmosis. She processed it, and made it into manure so flowers could grow.

Look at this logically. Brandi kicks the bucket in late 2019. My home starts going to shit 2 months later. And the entire world starts going to shit after 6 months. Am I totally out of whack here?

(**p.s. This is a grief journal. NO insult meant to the havoc Covid has unleashed.)

6 Replies to “The Paw Print Left Behind (5.13.20)”

  1. I can only imagine how painful these times must be for you. And hearing another person say that they are sorry for your loss most likely is of little comfort.
    Though I do send you my condolences, I also send you other thoughts.
    1. Try to take comfort from your memories of your times with your beloved Brandi. Know that the joys that she brought you cannot be erased by her passing.
    2. Try to remember that joy and sorrow may seem to share neighborhoods. It may be surprising to note that we may find them changing locales at times. Meaning, sometimes we may find joy in sorrow and sorrow in joy, depending on what we open our minds to seek. Remember, you remain in control of what you choose to perceive.
    3. Try to focus on the knowledge that going through difficulties may strengthen us, when we allow.
    For thousands of years, people have experienced pain and upset, and they lived to tell. Think about how your share may help others.
    4. Most importantly-surround yourself with energy. Feel the heat from the sunshine on your face for a few minutes. Sit on a park bench and listen to the sounds of nature. Take a walk and look to see happy faces.
    And BE with those who believe in you.
    Thank you for sharing.
    May better days find us all.

    Like

  2. I admit that with all the grief I’ve been feeling this year so far, starting with my Mom in January, and since then, others, from the evil Covid-19 pandemic. With its staggering statistics of morbidity, I prepared myself for sadness, which I got, BUT still, as I read, out came a couple few chuckles! Great read!

    Like

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