BROKEN HEARTED

I know now how they feel.

I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide so that I can have a meltdown, no one to confide in. No one wants to hear my cries; no one wants to see my tears. I sit in a cubicle, trying desperately not to scream my head off in despair. I am completely and utterly alone in the grief and sadness that I am drowning in.

This must be what every poor animal that sits in a cage, waiting for the needle, must feel. It’s the anxiety and fear and utter hopelessness of the shadow of death approaching and the ticking away of the last hours that they are allowed to live.

It was death that brought me to this understanding---this realization of being caged on the inside—unable to let my heartbreak burst forth, unable to do anything to change the situation that is killing my spirit.

You see, I set myself up once again for a fall—the big fall. I fell in love with a little four year old black lab named Duchess. She stole my heart from the first time I laid eyes on her.

I got a call today, telling me that Duchess was found dead in her kennel when the shelter workers arrived this morning. They are all stunned, as she showed no signs of any ailment or illness yesterday. It is believed that Duchess succumbed to a new strain of the parvo virus that attacks adult dogs.

All I know is that this sweet, innocent animal that I have spent the last two Saturday mornings loving and playing and rompingwith… is gone forever.

I know the score. Animals are put to sleep everyday by the trailer truck loads, and no matter how hard we fight, it still happens every hour of everyday.

But this dog was safe. This dog was in no danger of being euthanized. She had a future, a destiny that she had yet to fulfill. It’s hard enough to swallow when good animals are put down because no one wants them—but to have to swallow this too! How can I?

How can God be so good one minute and so cruel the next? How can he allow something that looked at me with the purest heart and love ever created be left to die in the night, all alone, with no one there to help her? How could he take her away—knowing I loved her so much?

Yes—I know—she wasn’t mine. But I loved her like she was.

Oh I know—I shouldn’t put this much feeling into an old dog that nobody else wanted. There are children starving and babies being born in trash bins and enough death and destruction on this globe to break anyone’s heart if they stopped and took it all in. I should be mourning for humanity--not some old dog.

So why does it hurt so much?

Why does the fact that I will never see that smiling, shining face ever again  rip a hole in me the size of the Atlantic Ocean? Why do I feel like screaming in pain and throwing up at the same time???

It's like having the brakes slammed on in mid-flight. It's over--there's no more. Duchess will never chase the rope toy I bought for her again. She’ll never sit, or lie down and speak for a bit of a milk bone again. We’ll never get a chance to finish learning “roll over” or “shake”. I’ll never get another wet kiss across my face, or see those brown eyes sparkle and look at me like I was the most important thing in the world.

I don’t understand this. I just don’t. I try so hard to do good and to be good and make things better, and is this the great reward??  I'm not made of stone! You can't help animals and be brick hearted!!!!!

Pity, pity, pity ---poor, poor, me.

All I know is that something I loved is gone—stolen away. I didn’t even get to say good-bye.

I don’t understand—I’ll never understand. It’s wrong—it’s cruel and mean and it’s just not right. I’m mad at God about it—as a matter of fact I am furious over it. I know you’re not supposed to do that—but right now I just can’t help it. It’s just another shitty part of life—right? Be a man—suck it up—take it on the chin—and all that crap.

And in the end—it all comes down to the age old question that we ask every time we lose something that we love: Why God? Why?