Well, friends and family. It has been too long since my last post about a month and a half ago. I admit, it was partially my own lack of organization and time management. However, the bulk of seasonal depression as well as just a general lack of motivation also was beating me with a stick. Repeatedly.

Despite all this, this particular post is not supposed to be just a complaint about these things. It has been about a week now since my family put our dog down. I have honestly taken it much harder than I thought I would. I knew I would be sad, but I did not realize just exactly how much my heart would hurt. And it’s not like when you read a book or watch a movie, and you feel sad about a character death. It is a physical pain that seizes your chest, and it’s almost as if that blood-pumping organ also holds tears because once that pain punches your chest, the tears just flow. I will miss that little dog so much.

I spoke to an old English teacher of mine from high school (the one who inspired me to study English in college), and he was recalling how I didn’t used to like our dog. This is true, but I think in high school, I was either sleep deprived, constantly dehydrated, spread too thin, or all of the above. Nonetheless, I actually really enjoyed high school, but I digress. The point is that our dog was not the central focus of my life.

That all changed when I started college. With my sister being away and my parents working, I had the blessing of spending time with the little furball. And I remembered how much I really loved him. And I don’t mean “love” the way most people would use it today to mean “really really REALLY like”. I mean, like, I would have died for this ball of love. I remember at the start of this school year, I came home one day from campus, just absolutely lost. Nothing actually too terrible had happened on that particular day, but I was stressed and upset because I didn’t know what I want to do after I graduate from undergrad (plot twist: I still don’t, but at a certain point, you get more comfortable with running like a chicken with its head cut off in no particular direction). I threw myself into the house with my 50 lb backpack and 40 lb Accounting textbook, and the dog ran up to me, excited to see me. He instantly made me forget my worries and reminded me that no matter what, he was always going to be there for me when I come home. He would always be a furry ball of joy no matter what school, work, love life, or life in general would throw at me. No matter what would come my way, I knew I had a constant. Our little ray of sunshine was a reminder to me of the way God loves us, and I know it’s cheesy and cliché to say things like this about dogs, but hear me out.

I am fully aware that dogs do not have the same capacity as humans to know right from wrong, moral from immoral, ethical from unethical, but I do know that they know how to love unconditionally. Our dog was a daily reminder for me that it’s okay to love unconditionally, and that it’s okay to ask for love (translation: when he wanted to snuggle, he was not shy). He taught me that it’s okay to be a little territorial…he sat on my sister’s face once because she was laying on his spot on the couch. But it was okay because he knew what he wanted, and he communicated that. He taught me so many things about life and family, and every time it would just be the two of us, he would come and find me in the house and either sit near me…or on me. We had a real connection, and he always knew when I was having a bad day or being pulled under a blanket of my own worries. He would lick my face and sit next to me, and everything in the world would be right.

That all shattered last week. Now when I come home from campus to an empty house, there is nothing.

The day after we lost him, I went to the Blessed Sacrament chapel on campus because I hadn’t gone for a few weeks, months maybe. However, I knew that was where I find the best solace. As usual, He delivered. As I settled in, I took in how silent it was. Silence is the best way for me to focus, and suddenly it dawned on me that silence was about to be something that I didn’t only find in the Blessed Sacrament chapel.

Silence would be at home now. The little dog was a quiet presence, but you always knew that he was there. Whether it was his steady breathing, ear scratching, jingling collar, or his weird routine where he rubbed his face against the floor, it was never truly still or silent in the house. But now it is. A stillness that I find only in the chapel had now made its way into the house. It pained me to realize that, but at the same time, it is comforting to know that silence could now be my companion. While Silence cannot do tricks for me, cuddle, run, play, or walk with me, Silence can teach me things about myself the way our little dog did. I suppose a dog teaches different lessons than Silence does. Perhaps a better way to think about it is through courses. A dog teaches a different course than Silence. While I was comfortable with a dog and his lessons, I think God knew I had truly learned the lesson and that it was time for something new. I don’t like change, and I never have.

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But as many people say, change does help a person to grow. I am still unbelievably upset, and my best friend (yes, the one I wrote a post about a few months ago….sentiments have definitely changed, but he’s actually a really great friend still), who lost his dog about a year ago, said that it’s okay to be upset for a while. It was one of the nicest things that my best friend has ever said to me, and I think it says a lot about him. I think I had really high expectations for him, but now that we’ve grown and matured a bit, he is now exceeding expectations (he’ll never read this, so I’m not too worried his ego will inflate).

Anyway, I am still extremely sad, but I know that life is life, and it doesn’t stop. There is a hole, a void, deep in my heart, and ever so slowly, it might heal. But if it doesn’t, I’m not opposed to that either honestly. Maybe I’ll expand on that in a few posts from now.

A few days before our furbaby passed, my dad played The Sound of Silence for me by Simon and Garfunkel, and the first line didn’t quite hit me, but it was more like a firm shove. “Hello darkness, my old friend”…I made a meme of our dog with that written on him because he looked really sad, and honestly, it’s a very funny picture, in contrast to this whole post. I’ll insert the picture here so you see what I’m talking about:

So, as you can see…I am a dang good meme creator. Just kidding. You might not see why this is funny, but it’s funny to me. Anyway, to return to seriousness…

Bref: Taking in the good times is important, and the bad times are inevitable, and sometimes Silence will be the only thing that keeps you grounded. It’s okay to be sad, but know that Silence can heal. Now, the next post will most likely be about how music also heals…the opposite of Silence.

Thanks for reading.

Sincerely,