This week has been the most difficult week in a while… Not health-wise, but emotionally.
On Superbowl Sunday, S. and I went to Boston Pizza and I had a really good, healthy meal. However, I did eat a heavenly piece of New York Cheesecake. It was sinful! Luckily, S. and I had gone to the gym that afternoon and worked out for a good hour.
I went to boxing on Monday, as usual and got a good 2 hour workout in. I had done groceries on Sunday and had lots of healthy food in my fridge and ate well.
Tuesday is when my life got turned upside down. I woke up like any other Tuesday, and let my Springer Spaniel out to do her business. Before letting her out, she was anxious to get out there. She had heard something and wanted desperately to check it out. This had happened before, so I never thought anything of it, and let her out. As I poured her food into her dish, and was about to head down the hallway, I heard an eerie sound. I immediately rushed to the door and called her name over and over again. Sometimes she took a while to get back in and I was trying to convince myself that I needed to stop being dramatic and she would eventually come in. It was when I saw the truck back into my driveway that I knew something was wrong. Really wrong. “Is that your dog on the road?”, the guy asked. All I could do was scream, “MOLLY!!! NO!!!” I rushed back into the house to get my glasses, so I could see and threw on my black jacket and sneakers and ran onto the road. There she was, just laying there, covered in dirt and barely breathing. I tried to hold her close to me and screamed hysterically, “NO! MOLLY! NO!” I was sobbing uncontrollably. Just then, a car came zooming by, almost running me over in the process. At that point, I didn’t care. One of the two guys in the truck got out and told me that he saw a vehicle hit her and keep going. He offered to put her on the tailgate of his truck and drive her into my yard. As he drove, I followed frantically. Once he stopped, I took a look at her. Her breathing was sporadic and I knew she wasn’t going to make. That it was too late. I screamed at the guy, “What do I do? What do I do?”. He suggested calling the vet. I ran into the house to get the portable phone and dialed the vet. As she said, “Could you please hold?”, I cried, “My dog got hit and I think she’s dead! I think she’s dead!”. The operator immediately started asking me questions. I was pleading with Molly not to die, to stay with me, but it was too late. She took her last breath and her eyes glared up into the sky. It was an awful sight. I told the lady on the phone that she was gone. A suggestion for cremation was made and I was asked to hold as she checked on prices. As I was on hold, it hung up on me, so I phoned my parents. My dad had to tell me to repeat myself because I was crying so much. They were completely devastated by the news. My mom cried and cried with me on the phone. Then I heard a beep on the phone, it was the vet with the prices. I told her fine, that I would bring my baby in to be cremated that morning. I then got a garbage bag, at the guy’s request and headed outside. He placed her gently into the bag and layed her onto the snow. I thanked him and watched him and the other passenger leave. I then called my mom again and she convinced me to get a supply teacher for the day. Imagine, I thought I would go to work that day! Then, the hardest part, telling my brother. I knew it would break his heart. And I was right. For once in my life, I didn’t want to be right. I dreaded telling him, knowing that he would be just as shocked as I was. After all, he did live with me and her for a year and a half. After that was over, I phoned S. and told her. She was crying too and reassured me that she would be over. That I didn’t have to have the memory of Molly in my trunk. She was going to put her in hers and take me to the vet for my final goodbyes. In the meantime, I let my two cats out to sniff her so they would know that she was gone. I was worried about one of my cats, Jack, which Molly had bonded with so strongly. He walked over and then kept going. He didn’t seem to believe that it was her. The other one smelled her and it was obvious that she had figured it out. S. came over and drove me to the vet. The technician brought me to the x-ray room and S. layed her on the table. I spent some time with the technician and she reassured me that there was nothing I could’ve done. It happened so fast and there wouldn’t have been enough time to bring her in. She was badly cut on her side and her major organs were damaged. I pet Molly’s head and nose and whispered, “Mommy loves you. Bye sweetheart.” It was the worst moment ever. Needless to say, I had lost my appetite and couldn’t bear to eat, despite not having anything in my stomach since the previous night. S. convinced me to go with her to get something to eat. I did, but couldn’t finish it all. I layed on the couch all day and cried. The cats layed with me. It was comforting to have some life in the house, despite the eerie sound of silence that replaced the sound of Molly’s claws on the wood floor and the jingle of her collar. I take comfort in the fact that she lead a happy life with me. She was loved and in return loved back. She will be greatly missed. She was not only a good dog, but she was the best.
At school on Wednesday, I had an outpouring of love and support from both staff and students. My little ones had made me cards telling me how much they loved and missed me. I told them exactly what happened and we all cried together and talked about how we felt. They knew my dog through stories I told and videos we had watched last week. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful support system at work. My workout at boxing on Wednesday lacked energy. Being drained emotionally from the day before, I had no strength to perform the usual amount of push ups that night.
Dance class on Thursday was also plagued by my tiredness. I forgot a lot of the dance moves and messed up a lot. I suppose that is the natural part of grieving. I felt like I was in a haze all week.
Yesterday was a bit better. Being around my dancers really helped. Children have the ability to help you forget about your problems and focus on the task at hand.
I am taking the weekend off and returning to my regular routine next week. I guess I can say I’m lucky in a sense that I’m not an emotional eater. I really don’t feel like eating when I’m upset. I did eat less than usual this week, but will make sure that I’m eating balanced meals next week.
R.I.P. Molly – I will never forget you!
