Sasha got really sick on New Year's Day. She rallied for a few weeks, but couldn't recover. We had to have her put to sleep on January 19. I have had a hard time of it, and I still can't really talk about it or think about it much. Last week in p.e. a kid hurled a bean bag that accidentally smacked me at full force directly on my heart. It almost knocked me flat. That's basically what it feels like when I realize she isn't here any more. She was tiny, but she took up a lot of space. I am just going to write down a few things that I don't want to forget, and then I plan to get back to blogging about the living that is going on here.
Some things I miss about Sasha:
1. I miss her being curled up in my lap.
2. I miss how when I would get into bed, she would go over to the husband's side for a little while, then once I got settled, she would make her way over to me, pretending like it had been AGES. She would then snuggle in as close as she could possibly get, and finally let out a long, rather dramatic, contented sigh of relief. Every single night.
3. I miss her happy dance of jubilation every time we walked in the door. If we'd been gone 5 minutes, or 5 days. It was the same joy.
4. I miss the little nervous yet excited yelp she'd make when she heard me cracking an egg. Scrambled eggs were her favorite. Also popcorn and honey nut cheerios.
5. I miss how she'd leap out of bed in the morning when she heard the kids pouring their cereal.
6. I miss hearing the kids and the husband and my Dad talk to her in the special voices they used just for her.
7. I miss how she would sometimes race around the house, doing laps and then leaping on the furniture like a crazed billy goat. We referred to this as her "reaction."
8. I miss how I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night because she and the husband would be snoring in unison. Sweet little symphony.
Some things I actually do not miss about Sasha:
1. That she would drink my coffee if I left it where she could reach it. This had been going on for months? Years? before I caught her in the act, lapping away.
2. That she would jump up ON TOP OF the kitchen table and steal food if the chairs weren't tightly pushed in. She got a bite of the in-process cornbread dressing at my parents' this last Christmas. The very last time it happened was just a few days before she died. We had gotten doughnuts to celebrate MLK. Even though she'd barely eaten in days, she summoned up the energy to leap up on the table and stole half of Hudson's chocolate covered doughnut. I didn't even try to take it from her.
3. That she would sprint out the front door at any opportunity, as though she were being held captive. The kids (especially Hudson) lived in fear that she was going to get hit by a car, and would go running out to herd her back into this terrible place where she was so poorly treated.
4. That she would bark like a FERAL BEAST when anyone knocked on the door. It was so very piercing.
There now. I did it. We had a good dog. Helena had just turned one, Hudson had just turned three, and Harper was four that day the husband opened the door and found her shivering on our porch. Familiarity finally bred love and not contempt, and we are thankful for that dumb stray dog who stuck around for eight years of our life.
