Friday, November 4 was one of the hardest days of late. I had to go say goodbye to her. THankfully, we didn't have much going on at work on Friday, so as soon as I got Katie's phone call, I threw all my stuff into a bag and jetted out of there. I cried and played a slide show in my mind all the way to Mom and Dad's of the wonderful, sweet, loving, funny moments with Patch. Of images instilled in my mind of her and things she likes to do. I'm thankful for pictures because even now I feel like I can't remember everything. At the same time, I wish I had taken so many more pictures.
But pictures can't replace her presence. Her sweet, precious little puppy soul. She was one of my BFF's. Daddy was her BFF. He was her favorite. She went to work with him, worked out with him, ate meals with him, read the paper with him, got the mail and newspaper with him, slept next to him. She loved all of us so much, but he was the apple of her eye. Her favorite thing was quality time and just being touched and cuddled. Those were definitely her favorites. She would come and find us in the house or look at me with pleading eyes and scratch at my feet to sit on the floor with her--at her level--if I was sitting in a chair or on the couch. I loved this. I loved that she wanted me near her and to spend time with her. Quality time and to be touched and loved. Just like a person. She was no ordinary dog that's for sure. She really wasn't. I feel like lots of people say that about dogs, but it's especially true for Patch. She thrived on those things and you could tell it made her happy. You could see joy in her little face.
There are so many things to remember, I could never write it all or this would be a book. But on Friday, when I walked into Mom and Dad's and Patch wasn't there, I started sobbing all over again. I knew it would now always be like this. She wouldn't be there when I walked in and I so desperately wanted her to be there. So we went to the vet to see her and we stayed with her for about an hour. It wasn't until Dad got there after work that she was calmer, more at peace, happier. She just walked with him and followed him and wanted to be with him. It was the most precious sight. I love that I got to say goodbye, but I want my last hug back, I want to whisper how much I love her and will miss her in her ear again.
Now when we're at our house and I say I miss Patch, I know I won't be saying it knowing I'll get to see her on the weekend. Instead, I'll say it knowing I don't get to see her again. I'm convinced, truly convinced, that God wants us to be happy, especially in Heaven. We'll know nothing but happiness in Heaven. He knows the joy we have in our dogs. So I think Patch is in Heaven. Playing with Pumpkin. Her sister who she's missed for 6 years. Is that silly?? But they're playing, and then when I get there I'll get to cuddle and love on both of them.
There's so many things I would say or do that now I just can't picture myself saying or doing because I know Patch isn't there to do them with me. I can't stand the thought of another puppy, because how can I replace Patch? Or better yet, how can I go through this again? I was telling Casey, you would think the more you have to say goodbye to a special furry friend, the easier it would get. But I don't think so. I think it get's harder. Every time. Because each one you get, you want to love more than the last, so you can give that sidekick more of you than the last. And that only makes it harder to say goodbye. I'm afraid for Casey and I to get our own puppy now. As much as we so wanted one before, we've agreed not to talk about it until I feel like I'm ready. At this rate, I don't think I'll ever be ready.
I gave her a blanket last week to put in her bed for extra warmth and cuddle purposes when Katie, Casey, and I stayed with her. On Friday, I brought it back. It is now the most special blanket to me. As much as we try to protect our little friends, there is a point when there is no more we can do. Patch had the most wonderful, caring, loving, adoring parents though :) She had the best life a dog could want, and she was a healthy little thing until her last day. And I miss her. Everytime I see a picture or think her, I cry. At this point, it seems like I always will, even though I know I won't always.
Sunday morning I was up super early, so I decided to have some cereal. We had a special cereal. Magic Stars (it's actually the HT brand of Lucky Charms). I opened the box and looked down and all I saw was oat pieces. No marshmallows. My heart sunk. So I poured some into my bowl cause the oats are healthier anyways. But miraculously out flowed a bunch of marshmallows! I was thrilled. Where did they come from! I know it seems silly, but it looked so empty, and I was so dejected when I initially looked in the box, kinda how I feel now. Then when I saw all the marshmallows, I felt like it was a little piece of God's promise that He has so many hidden blessings for me. And I know He does even in the midst of my hurt. I'm just sad right now.
Here are all my blessings:
I also took a picture of my set-up on Sunday morning. By myself as the sun came up. Here's my marshmallow filled bowl, with my yummy coffee, Patch's blanket that I hold, and some pictures of her I was looking at. 12 years was not long enough for the sweetness that filled her heart. She gave us ALL the love she had. I'm totally convinced of that. She was the most perfect pup ever.
We miss our little angel.
I'll post more sweet pictures of her later, but for now, to get your heart filled with overwhelming adorable-ness please visit the "True Life: I Have a Rockstar Dog" from September. I'm so glad I wrote that blog. We're more insistent than ever that we'll write those children's books about Patch now.
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