Dog days

 Long story short: I'm putting Loki down. 

Every so often, I find myself crying. I remember these incidents from when Dad and Nana died- out of nowhere, with very little control or reason, you're just... bawling. And not little dainty sniffy sobs. We're talking pull-the-car-over-I-can't-see-my-hands-on-the-steering-wheel, great, heaving, terrible sobs that make your ribs feels like they're going to crack and your face twists into some beastly thing because you're howling out the pain you can't keep in anymore or you might actually die.

 Those sobs. 

I find myself listening to music I haven't listened to in forever- partially because I finally gave in and paid for Apple Music so I can, but also because it just feels right. Like I've been missing pieces of myself. It's a relief to hear it and sing (scream?) along and know the words, and at times, it makes it easier to come back from the edge of grief. 

Seth told me to get a list of projects together that I want done, because then I'll have something to work on during the days after. I find it funny how we have ended up so very alike even while we were so completely different through the majority of our lives- both growing up together and as adults. He never knew I went  on a complete woodworking spree after Ruff died- Logan and I had new rabbit hutches, headboards, tables, drawers for the cabinets, CABINETS. Logan will never forget being woken up at 3am by the sound of the table saw in the garage, where he found me bundled up in that unheated space in 30 degree weather, just... manically working on the project I had to get done. Or something terrible would happen. Like it hadn't. Already. 

He told me to build the shed we were looking at buying. God, it's exhausting just thinking about it. 

I'm slightly worried. 

I remember I didn't ride because I couldn't deal with Vera and her myriad of issues- it took me months to get up the willpower to try to ride because it was too much effort to think about what to work on. Tater was taken over my Grams for similar reasons, although he was a bit easier because he just... got it. He will be the main dog after this, and he knows he's got big shoes to fill.

 My patience at work was razor thin. I gave an attending the hand- like, "talk to the hand"- when she got after me about something that wasn't on me.. And walked away. God, I can still picture the busy ER hallway and hear her screaming, "What is your NAME?!" after me. No, I did not get fired. In fact, the senior attending laughed at the story and although she told me not to do it again, she also wished she could have been there to see it. 

We're doing it in 22 days. I spoke to our vet- who is the kindest, best vet I've ever met- and he said he'd make a special trip for us to the farm to put him down because 15 year old dogs should get to do their final nap in their own bed. Mom is coming down to be there, because.. Loki is special.