Goodnight, Dear Lily

Note: I wrote this from a point of sheer emotional and physical exhaustion.  It is what it is. 

So after a wonderfully relaxing spring break with my mom, I walked into my house, ready for the week to come, ready to end this year on a strong note.  I was ready to be an adult again.

My respite came to a jarring halt as soon as I walked upstairs to check on my dog, Lily.  My roommate had been watching her this week, so I was not alarmed when silence greeted me as I opened my bedroom door.  She was sleeping.  I quietly peered over the baby gate, watching her sleep peacefully under my vanity.  I knew calling her would be pointless- she had lost her hearing long ago. So I slowly climbed over the gate and bent down to her. Still, she did not move.  I put my hand on her head, and instead of startling her to her feet which was my usual greeting, she slowly, groggily lifted her head. She saw me, and almost anti-climatically, put her head back down.

To save you the graphic details, I have spent the entire day laying in my bed holding her. Where there was once a spark of life, now there is only a vacant stare.  Her eyes tell all- she is leaving me. She is tired.  She is ready.

This little dog has been a constant in my life for the past 15 years.  She has been exactly who I needed her to be when I needed it.  She was the one who listened to all of my middle school secrets- the drama, the boys, the teachers who "hated me."  She was the one who cuddled with me as I cried at the news of my mom's upcoming marriage and move to Indiana.  She was the one who licked my hand and nuzzled close when I experienced my first heartbreak.  She was there when I slept alone in my house for the first time.  Even though her small stature and measly four pounds would barely startle an intruder much less protect me, her mere presence brought me peace that first night.  She has been there for me through it all.

And now it seems I'll have to do this part alone. For her. Because she has done so much for me.

Sweet Dreams, Little One.

March 30, 2012