Grief

This is what I know. I know I'm grieving. I lost my dog Frodo. And for those of you who think, it's just a dog, just stop reading.

Frodo came into our lives 15 years ago. It was 2007 and I was still a big firm lawyer. That's how long ago it was. I spotted him at a pet store. That's how long ago it was. Our eyes met as I walked past a window. A little black and white fur ball of a shih tzu. He sucked a blanket. His black eyes and black nose just fascinated me. He reminded me of the beloved Panda bear stuffed animal I had as a kid. Plus, my cat Leopold had just gone missing and I was just so needy and raw.

Frodo and I played together and I couldn't let him go. Little did I know that in 2022, I would have to. 

We brought him home to our new house. He was my everything for me. Then Chewie came and I had two loves. Frodo was always there. Every day. Every night. Every morning was spent talking to him and Chewie. Feeding them. Walks. Dog parks. Petco visits. Vet appointments.

Then it got hard. Frodo had not been well for about a year. But I did my best. He was on meds. A lot of meds. So is Chewie. But I didn't think. I didn't see it. I didn't understand every day was precious. I hope he knows. I hope he knows how much I adored him. How sad our house is without him. The hole he left is just short of unbearable.

My grief is vast. It is deep and endless. I feel like I felt when my dad died. When I had my miscarriage. Like I can't deal. Like I can't come back from this. 

But I have to soldier on. Chewbacca needs me. As do others. My twin said, "Frodo would tell you to be happy" and she's right. But that's hard to remember as I weep writing this. Just picturing Frodo's little furry face. And how hard that day was when he died.

You see, I don't have human kids. I didn't get that blessing. But I remind myself daily of everything I do have. I do have a lot. But I don't have Frodo anymore, except in my memories. Always on my mind and in my memories.