I'm feeling so much better today!
The 7 day thing is true. Cracker came to me in my dreams last night. Previously I was worried because he didn't return after 3, 4, 5 days. Last night he finally did.
I dreamt a lot of him, I reckon. but I can only remember this one part:
I was walking out of my room. And then I was in the dining room, where I saw my mother sitting across me, with Cracker in her lap and his paws on the table. He was smiling at me with his tongue sticking out. I know when he's happy by looking at his eyes and his eyebrows. and he was happy.
My mom said, "See! Cracker is okay!!"
But I replied worriedly, "No, he still has to take his medicines."
I think Cracker's telling me he is okay. I genuinely think so and I genuinely feel so.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Orange
It's funny. All that I ever knew being reduced to a jar of dust and bones.
When i opened the cap, i picked out one of your bones. it was part of your spine.
You were cremated on Wednesday at 3. is that why i was followed by so many insects that day? an ant in the library, a flying ant and a moth at home that sat silently beside me on the table as I studied, like you would always accompany me while you were alive.
For im a fool who has romantic ideas about death.
When the nurse handed you to me, it was a strange feeling. you were so heavy in life, and still are in death. Tomorrow will be 7 days since you left. im excited, and i will be waiting.
When i opened the cap, i picked out one of your bones. it was part of your spine.
You were cremated on Wednesday at 3. is that why i was followed by so many insects that day? an ant in the library, a flying ant and a moth at home that sat silently beside me on the table as I studied, like you would always accompany me while you were alive.
For im a fool who has romantic ideas about death.
When the nurse handed you to me, it was a strange feeling. you were so heavy in life, and still are in death. Tomorrow will be 7 days since you left. im excited, and i will be waiting.
please dont
please dont leave me alone we can go jogging and rollerblading and swimming and we can kick around together we can walk up hills and try to climb trees we can lay in bed we can sit in the back of trucks we can do everything together just please dont leave me alone
Thursday, February 16, 2012
To all my friends
Who keep showing that they care about me, the people I've always known all along. Thanks so much.
Today I came home to a personally delivered letter left on my table. My cat was lying on top of it. I had to tug it away from under his flab.
Reading it somehow made me feel better. I did cry. But then again i cry whenever I'm at home now. Little bits and pieces here and there. Like the other day I came home and Junior started barking and I thought I heard Cracker and in that snap of a moment I really thought he was there but then a fraction of a second later I realised that it couldn't be.
Or this morning, for example. I was done watching the Champions League game and in my half-sleep-half-wake composure I almost called out to Cracker to follow me back to my room.
He wakes with me and sleeps with me. Goes wherever I go.
Like I said a few posts ago that Cracker is a daily routine. Cracker was a daily routine. I miss him so much, and I still love him so much. The old me would love to mourn for weeks and months. But the practical side of me is weaning me off the taps. In short I have my examinations coming up. I can't stay stuck for too long.
Tomorrow I will be collecting Cracker's ashes. I don't know how I will feel. It's something new to me. When I was younger my parents would always take us to the temple to pray to my late grandmother, and I always wondered how they ever managed to squeeze her in the tiny ceramic jar.
What else can I say but this whole segmentation or fragmentation or centrifugation that's separating me from my emotions now, they're forcing me to be okay. I think that when you believe that you're okay, you will be okay.
Today I came home to a personally delivered letter left on my table. My cat was lying on top of it. I had to tug it away from under his flab.
Reading it somehow made me feel better. I did cry. But then again i cry whenever I'm at home now. Little bits and pieces here and there. Like the other day I came home and Junior started barking and I thought I heard Cracker and in that snap of a moment I really thought he was there but then a fraction of a second later I realised that it couldn't be.
Or this morning, for example. I was done watching the Champions League game and in my half-sleep-half-wake composure I almost called out to Cracker to follow me back to my room.
He wakes with me and sleeps with me. Goes wherever I go.
Like I said a few posts ago that Cracker is a daily routine. Cracker was a daily routine. I miss him so much, and I still love him so much. The old me would love to mourn for weeks and months. But the practical side of me is weaning me off the taps. In short I have my examinations coming up. I can't stay stuck for too long.
Tomorrow I will be collecting Cracker's ashes. I don't know how I will feel. It's something new to me. When I was younger my parents would always take us to the temple to pray to my late grandmother, and I always wondered how they ever managed to squeeze her in the tiny ceramic jar.
What else can I say but this whole segmentation or fragmentation or centrifugation that's separating me from my emotions now, they're forcing me to be okay. I think that when you believe that you're okay, you will be okay.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Cracker; dead of renal failure.
I can never come to terms with death. I can never accept death. Unless death really means a new, better life. Unless I'm not the one being left alone, that I'm the one leaving instead.
Cracker passed away on Saturday, though I must admit, I saw it coming. The past few weeks have been treacherous, quite an uphill battle of preparing myself, of coming to terms. Ever since I brought Cracker to school and he had his clinical chemistry tests done. I got a call from a classmate, who passed the phone back to the school's vet tech and told me that Cracker's got a kidney problem. I was walking Cracker then, we had just gotten off the taxi. I remember trying to absorb it all in, and for quite some time I was stoned. I didn't know what to do.
The next two weeks saw two veterinary visits spanning 300 bucks, thus officially emptying my bank account. On Thursday I was told that I might have to euthanize him, and from then on I got really depressed. Tons of pills he had to take, capsules to be shoved down his throat. He deteriorated. The meds didn't help. In the final days leading up to his death, he couldn't walk properly, his urine wasn't at all concentrated, his faeces turned black with blood. He was on a drip for three days. In the morning, before school. At night, before he slept. Every time I came home from school I cried for the both of us. It was so draining, because I didn't know what I would do without him.
Soon his tongue turned black and stiff, and he couldn't hear anymore. I could feel his ribs; I could see them as he breathed. I didn't even know if he recognised me in the day, but at night I would be reassured as he plopped himself by my side. Two or three days before his death he licked me on the nose in the middle of the night. I tried not to think that it was a goodbye.
I try not to think about his death. The actual process of it. In summary watching him pass really made me scared. Around 5am he had some short fits. I thought he was dreaming. I placed my palm on him and after a while it subsided. An hour later he had another fit. And that was when i knew he was going. I don't know how many fits he had. I didn't count. But with every fit he had, I watched him struggle to breathe. With each fit he had he urinated onto the blankets, onto me. In the spaces I picked him up. He struggled so hard that his jaws were clamping down on his tongue, causing the remaining pink parts to bleed. He struggled so hard his eyes seemed to be popping out of its sockets. He struggled so hard that it made a whistling sound at the back of his throat. He sounded like a bird.
I sang Blackbird while I cried. He looked at me, or perhaps a very far away place.
In summary I watched my dog suffocate to his death, five hours later at 10am.
It was so painful. "Just go, baby. Just go," I had to tell him. And when he finally did, I was in more pain than I ever was. 13 years we were together, from when he was a puppy.
Since he died I've been sleeping with a space at my stomach where he used to be. Mostly out of habit, but partly because I wish he'd return to me in my dreams. The night following his death I tried speaking to him. I just looked at the sky and spoke all that he meant to me. I can't explain but somehow a wave of calm just washed over me. Like a reassurance, I don't know from who. But I'd like to think that it was Cracker.
It's strange because whenever I close my eyes and think of him, I can almost feel him. His tuft of fringe at the top of his head which I had left to grow. The black spots on his back which I'd trace with my fingers. The scaley elbows of his and his stumpy tail. My hand on his pectorals as we sleep. It's almost like a sensory memory.
Do I have regrets regarding his death? I cherished him, so much. I loved him so much. The only regret though, would be a medical aspect. Cracker didn't show any signs until he 3 weeks ago. I wish I could have known earlier, maybe then the supplements and the diet change would have helped.
I'm sorry I couldn't save you.
But he was almost 13 and his time was going to be up, sooner or later. In four months I have lost 2 of my best friends in the house, and I sincerely hope that there is a doggy heaven up there. Where all the dogs are happy and healthy, digging and chewing bones they were advised against, running and playing with each other, perhaps chasing butterflies.
I really miss you, boy.
Cracker passed away on Saturday, though I must admit, I saw it coming. The past few weeks have been treacherous, quite an uphill battle of preparing myself, of coming to terms. Ever since I brought Cracker to school and he had his clinical chemistry tests done. I got a call from a classmate, who passed the phone back to the school's vet tech and told me that Cracker's got a kidney problem. I was walking Cracker then, we had just gotten off the taxi. I remember trying to absorb it all in, and for quite some time I was stoned. I didn't know what to do.
The next two weeks saw two veterinary visits spanning 300 bucks, thus officially emptying my bank account. On Thursday I was told that I might have to euthanize him, and from then on I got really depressed. Tons of pills he had to take, capsules to be shoved down his throat. He deteriorated. The meds didn't help. In the final days leading up to his death, he couldn't walk properly, his urine wasn't at all concentrated, his faeces turned black with blood. He was on a drip for three days. In the morning, before school. At night, before he slept. Every time I came home from school I cried for the both of us. It was so draining, because I didn't know what I would do without him.
Soon his tongue turned black and stiff, and he couldn't hear anymore. I could feel his ribs; I could see them as he breathed. I didn't even know if he recognised me in the day, but at night I would be reassured as he plopped himself by my side. Two or three days before his death he licked me on the nose in the middle of the night. I tried not to think that it was a goodbye.
I try not to think about his death. The actual process of it. In summary watching him pass really made me scared. Around 5am he had some short fits. I thought he was dreaming. I placed my palm on him and after a while it subsided. An hour later he had another fit. And that was when i knew he was going. I don't know how many fits he had. I didn't count. But with every fit he had, I watched him struggle to breathe. With each fit he had he urinated onto the blankets, onto me. In the spaces I picked him up. He struggled so hard that his jaws were clamping down on his tongue, causing the remaining pink parts to bleed. He struggled so hard his eyes seemed to be popping out of its sockets. He struggled so hard that it made a whistling sound at the back of his throat. He sounded like a bird.
I sang Blackbird while I cried. He looked at me, or perhaps a very far away place.
In summary I watched my dog suffocate to his death, five hours later at 10am.
It was so painful. "Just go, baby. Just go," I had to tell him. And when he finally did, I was in more pain than I ever was. 13 years we were together, from when he was a puppy.
Since he died I've been sleeping with a space at my stomach where he used to be. Mostly out of habit, but partly because I wish he'd return to me in my dreams. The night following his death I tried speaking to him. I just looked at the sky and spoke all that he meant to me. I can't explain but somehow a wave of calm just washed over me. Like a reassurance, I don't know from who. But I'd like to think that it was Cracker.
It's strange because whenever I close my eyes and think of him, I can almost feel him. His tuft of fringe at the top of his head which I had left to grow. The black spots on his back which I'd trace with my fingers. The scaley elbows of his and his stumpy tail. My hand on his pectorals as we sleep. It's almost like a sensory memory.
Do I have regrets regarding his death? I cherished him, so much. I loved him so much. The only regret though, would be a medical aspect. Cracker didn't show any signs until he 3 weeks ago. I wish I could have known earlier, maybe then the supplements and the diet change would have helped.
I'm sorry I couldn't save you.
But he was almost 13 and his time was going to be up, sooner or later. In four months I have lost 2 of my best friends in the house, and I sincerely hope that there is a doggy heaven up there. Where all the dogs are happy and healthy, digging and chewing bones they were advised against, running and playing with each other, perhaps chasing butterflies.
I really miss you, boy.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Friday, February 03, 2012
Danny Graft (The Manor) - Arsenal Anthem (Keep The Faith)
Love the british accent.
Whole my life singing #arsenal
Til I die singing #arsenal
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)