My best friend died earlier this month and I can't seem to get over it.
Tasha was a dog, a chocolate lab, who had more personality than anybody else I know. It's hard to have a normal thought these days, no one has affected me more than this.
I can see how all this sounds very "westcoast". I realize it and trust me, I know it must seem pretty pathetic.
When I say it out loud to someone, "My dog died", it sounds like a sad story and it's all really too bad; yet, life goes on...
But I can't seem to explain to them that Tasha wasn't my dog, she was a friend and I can't believe she's no longer here with me, sleeping by my feet, under my desk. I feel a little wierd, I haven't told anybody about this physical pain except to write it here.
People ask when I'm going to get another dog. It's hard for me to believe they feel comfortable asking such a question. Tasha took over my life and I don't think, or want, another being to do that again.
fcuk, I realize how pathetic this is, seriously, I do.
And I also realize the time heals stuff and the death is a hard lesson... blah blah blah...
I will never forget her eyes as she was put to sleep. They didn't close, they just became dim and vacant. There was no life in there anymore and I felt so alone. I realized how much I depended on her. She was so scared and I couldn't do anything to help but to let her die. I hate myself for that.