TW: Sexual Abuse Implied
The first time I heard your name in years was when I was told in casual conversation your dog died.
That must suck. Something you love so dearly ripped away from you right before your eyes? Something you love with all you are plucked away and tossed aside? Something you considered your everything, your joy, completely crushed?
Must. Suck.
I do remember her being a good dog, though.
She always came when you called, always bound up too quick and shrunk into herself in front of you, eyes not daring to leave your own. No matter what she was doing, eating, playing, using the restroom, napping, she’d rush to you and only you would matter to her then. She wouldn’t move a muscle until you were done with her, even that time I accidentally kicked a soccer ball at her, she merely let it bounce off and just kept staring at you. When I was younger, I thought she was just a very trained and very good dog.
She was a very terrified, and very brainwashed dog, in reality.
I have vivid memories of her still despite last seeing her years ago. She had the perfect amount of brindle on her coat, paws and ears, making it look as if she was wearing a jacket, mittens and earmuffs. In the winter I’m sure it was adorable! I wish I could remember what she looked like in the winter but alas
I was kind of preoccupied with much, much, much worse things.
But you know that too.
She did come to me once, without me chasing her down. You saw her do it; though you may not remember because you were busy doing what came after and from what I’ve learned in Human Sexuality (and…my own life experience) your mind is in the clouds in the after. But she came to me in my hiding spot under the stairs and on the couch, made sure I could see her and stared at me. And that’s where she stayed as you went back upstairs to the party. And that’s where she stayed as my tears dried. And that’s where she stayed as I reached out to pet her. And that’s where she stayed as I hid when my old name was slurred and eventually screamed. And that’s where she stayed as I told her how sad I was at only seven years old.
And when I got up she followed me up the stairs and to the creek in the backyard where I found a little frozen ice patch to throw rocks, too.
In the freezing cold she stayed with me.
You took so many things that I refuse to think about from me and I was too young to know the complexity or volume of them all, but I had the comfort of knowing I only had to see you twice a year and the worst of the two I got to see your dog, too.
I lost my dog to Cancer last year.
I don’t think I would’ve made it in that house without him.
I think he held on that long because he knew that.
I still get teary eyed when I think of him.
It wasn’t sudden.
It wasn’t sudden and I knew that and when it happened I still went to school and continued living and I hated myself for that.
I lost my love of Christmas- if I had it at all- starting with you.
I don’t think I would make it through that season if we still went to the party.
I think you knew when I learned what you did was what you did because suddenly you vanished.
I still don’t know how to classify what you did, or if I should.
It wasn’t sudden.
It wasn’t sudden and I knew it would happen every year and yet still I stayed in that basement because I wanted so desperately to play with your dog even if it meant that would happen.
So yeah, I’m sorry that your dog died.
You’ll never see her ever again and I want you to remember that feeling because that is how I feel each and every single time I think about Christmas Eve and July Fifth.