The day after

My day today was a mix of random sobbing and staring into space. It kind of went something like this:

1. Open my email – start sobbing

2. Walk to the bus stop – start sobbing

3. Boss asks a question about upcoming shipments – start sobbing

4. Come home on the bus – start sobbing

5. Look at all the spots on the floor I expect to see the poodle and don’t – start sobbing

6. Pass the fluffy pup’s food and water bowl in the kitchen that I can’t bring myself to do anything about  – start sobbing

As you can tell, I’m not taking the passing of the fluff pup well.

So after a fruitful day of sobbing, I decided that some serious comfort food was in order. I’m not feeling particularly hungry and haven’t had much of an appetite for the past few days, but I still felt a need to stuff my face with KFC.

I came home and told Master of my brilliant plan for dinner and because he knows better than to stand between an emotionally traumatized girlie and her comfort food, he drove me to the local KFC where we loaded up with ten pieces of hot & spicy chicken and two large chips.

I scoffed my chips on the drive home and hoed into the chicken when we arrived home, washing it down with a raspberry vodka cruiser. Afterwards, I topped it all off with a huge bowl of ice-cream that I covered in nestle’s chocolate quik and then stirred into a kind of chocolate flurry. I don’t know whether all that made me feel any better, but I didn’t sob into my chicken so maybe I’m making some head-way.

But then again I’m sobbing into my cup of tea while trying to write a blog, so maybe not.

I’m sure I’ll come to terms with the loss of my poodle pup eventually and get back to my regularly scheduled blog programme of angst and porn, but until then you’ll have to bear with me, okay?

Master and I also want to say thank you to everyone for your heart-felt messages that were left in comments and sent as emails. We appreciate all of them.

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5 thoughts on “The day after

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  1. Take your time. Grieving has no time limit. This is your blog, and you by no means owe us certain content. We want you to begin emotionally healing before we want porn.

  2. You have KFC in Oz? Who knew?

    After we lost our first GSD – my heart dog – I was okay all day, but as soon as I walked through the door and she wasn’t there to greet me, I lost it. We were poochless for 10 days before we got another one. Those were ten very long days. It really did help to have another dog ASAP, although that might not be everyone’s choice.

    In the meantime, be good to yourself.

    Hugs,
    Hermione

  3. One of my dogs passed on last year. She was deteriorating slowly and I knew that I was going to have to put her down eventually, but she stayed alert as her body slowly failed around her and while she had trouble doing things, she wasn’t incapacitated. One morning, I went to work. I sat with her a bit and said a goodbye, as I started getting into the habit of doing anytime I left her side. When I came home for lunch, she was in a coma and completely unresponsive to me. I took her to the vet but she died a few minutes after I brought her into their exam room. She was on her blanket (I still have it). The vet gave her the euthanasia stuff just in case, because I didn’t want her to be barely alive and suffering but unable to communicate. I also had her cremated.

    She was a good dog. I had her for 14 years and she was full grown when I got her. No idea how old she really was.

  4. Hi, s….
    i don’t usually comment much, but felt i needed to give you a virtual hug today…so very, verry hard. I had to have my bestest buddy euthanized 3 years ago and still i grieve for him. He was an Irish Setter, and the dog of my childhood dreams. I got him as an adult, my comfort. I have an autistic son, and the dog gave me unrestrictive love, which my child could not. He in all essense, saved my spirit during some very daunting years. He was only 10 when we had to say goodbye…

    we got a new dog 2 years ago…it was hard, but the kids wanted another. I love him, but some pets are just special.

    I know you will heal from this, but it’s okay to cry too. Know that we all hurt a little for you today…many of us have been there…and it sucks big turkey balls.

    hugs,

    nilla

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