We are still processing Artie’s death.  This is so much harder than I thought it would be.  He’s been gone for a whole day now but it feels like so much longer.  I find myself crying all the time and I can’t stop thinking about him, missing him, remembering him and wishing.  I know he was “just a dog” but he was my dog.  My first and only dog.  I guess I never realized what a big role he played in our house.  He was always here, you see.  Always.  We came and went but Artie?  We waited just for us.

At lunch today, Kulia dropped her bowl on the ground and her noodles spilled everywhere.  Kevin and I just looked at each other with such sadness because we knew he wasn’t waiting under the table to gobble it up.  He was gone.  It was just us.  So Kevin calmly got up to find a rag while I hung my head to hide the tears from my girls.  Because I miss him so.  I even miss the hair!  Amazing, right?  I’ve spent the last nine years trying to get rid of it and now that it’s gone I’m beginning to panic.  My mom vacuumed for me and man was she thorough.  I’ve checked all the usual spots but they are all empty.  I can’t find a clump of hair to save my life.  Or my heart.  Because he’s gone.

Kevin is equally shattered.  He has decided we are going to have to re-arrange our bedroom because every time we walk past the door and see the empty void at the base of our bed where he slept, it wretches our soul open.  Because he’s gone.  I’m not sure what where exactly I am in the steps of grieving but I know I’m rapidly approaching anger.  I don’t know what else to do with all this sorrow weighing me down.  I guess I’m hoping I can turn it into anger to burn it out of me.  Anger that he’s gone.  Anger that he got sick so quickly.  Anger that I didn’t see it happening and I couldn’t stop it in the end.  But even the anger isn’t working because he’s still gone.

Oh Artie.  My sweet puppydoodle.  I have no regrets.  You wouldn’t let us ignore you.  You were underfoot every day of our lives.  I can honestly say that not a day passed that you didn’t get loved or fed or walked by one or all of us and maybe that’s what makes it so hard.  I have no retreat.  There is no where in this house that I can go that doesn’t echo with emptiness.  No where I can look and not notice that you aren’t sprawled under my feet or whining to go out or eyeing the food on the counter.  This whole house is full of stuff and all I can see is what isn’t here.  You.  My dog.  My sweet, wonderful, dog.  Oh Artie.

I know I need to find a way to make peace with this.  I’m frantic that I’m going to forget you and so I find myself manically pulling together pictures and stories and video of you, my Old Man.  I want to stash them away somewhere safe and maybe then my heartache will ease.  Maybe then I won’t wander around these empty rooms looking in vain for signs of you that just aren’t to be found.  Maybe then I can say “you’re gone” with peace instead of such tearing pain.

So I’m going to try and remember you for the next few days.  I’m going to pick up each precious memory and wrap it around my broken heart and hope that they will be enough to mend it.  I found this deep in the Archives of our website.  It was dated February 25, 2002.  We were planning to leave Artie for the first time with Kat and Josh and being crazy in love with him, we were worried how he’d do on his first sleepover.  Kat and Josh, being pet lovers too, totally understood our concern and graciously agreed to a trial run sleepover.  Little did they know this would be the first of many overnight visits as Artie adored them both.  This post rings so true now.  He’s an easy dog to miss, I guess.

We had a night without Artie over the weekend. It was a scary-strange night not having the big lug in the house. I’d open the fridge and expect to hear him jump off the sofa and come jangling over, confident that whatever came out of the fridge would be shared with him. There was no hopeful little puppy face on the side of the bed that night, whining and trying to look pathetic so I’d invite him up. No one to body slam the bed the next morning to announce that it was time for a potty break. What a sad and lonely life I lead before my pooch.

So where was Artie you ask? He was having a trial run sleep over at Kat & Josh. Since we are going out of town, they will be the proud owners of 85 pounds of puppy love for the weekend and we wanted to make sure they were up for the task. When we arrived the next morning to claim our pooch, they seemed no worse for the experience. They did, however, want to know if he always needed a potty break at 6:45am. We assured them that he was more of an 8:30am dog. Suckers.

So last night, Artie was back on the sofa where he belonged and the girls were shooting us looks of hate for having raised and then dashed their little kitty dreams, and everything was right in the world. I missed Artie so much that when he began begging to be let up on the bed last night, I gave in without a fuss. Of course, I spent most of the night contorted with one leg hanging off the bed and without any covers on the left side of my body because the darn dog kept hogging all the room but it was worth it when he lay his head on my leg, sighed a big puppy sigh of pure happiness, and begin licking the back of my knee.

How I ever managed to live without my dog I will never know.