Original Date: April 2014
The house on the street. Long winding road. Third house to the left. The image of the perfect home with the imagined "white picket fence". In a city, a pleasantville, but only for certain people- not me. I come from what appears to be the perfect family but in all actuality it is far from perfect. My own personal struggle is surrounded by working parents and this 4-wall square box of "shelter" called home. I am the legitimate only child of a man and woman. No siblings, just one dog *Snowball, whom I couldn't fully connect with. Loved her from the day I first saw her but I was too much of a spoiled, provided-for girl to be responsible enough to "train and raise" a puppy into a dog. The day she had to be put to sleep was one of the saddest days of my life. It was days before my birthday, my hair had been cut super short from extreme breakage and damage. With no preparation for the traumatic event I felt a departure, like the death of a loved one, happening as a major snip and cut took place to discard the majority of my hair.
The drive with me and my father to the Animal medical hospital. Her hair was everywhere on the back seat and she slipped and slid with the turn of the car with a loud bump. She was sick. She almost fell on the seat as we made the turn. Never did I believe I would feel the way I did. Death was not common in my life other than seeing my mother getting out of her car in August 1998 crying, with a personal pain that could be seen on her face, her father had passed. We went to the funeral and all that, bought a black and white horizontally wide stripped dress with black oxford shoes to wear from Kohls, and I remember being there in that same church my mother grew up going to with her four brothers "going through the experience" and not having much to feel. Didn't know how to feel. As we handed her over to the female vet care I rubbed her head and said, "It's going to be okay Snowball"...as if she could "hear" me talking to her. We handed the leash over to the woman ready to let her go. She led my dog around the corner, then I started welling up and it all came over me. I couldn't do it. Not yet. We asked the woman to bring her back and she walked back, just casually not knowing what was going on, just like any other day. I got down on my knees and I embraced my dog, held her like I was hugging her because that's what I needed to do...It was my way of saying I love you, goodbye for now. It was like she knew And I'm proud to have done that because it would've stayed with me for all these years after. Her hair was stuck all over my over-sized Polo hoodie I've had since middle school. I didn't want to wash it- it still smelled like her. We received a special letter in the mail during the week of Christmas addressed from the Animal clinic- it was blue paper with the sweetest poem pretty much just saying she is in a better place and we'll see each other again. At the bottom were her two paw prints. It was so touching and I felt peace. Truly did. She was not suffering anymore and her soul was free. After feeling my head for the usual thickness of hair and realizing I felt more of the sculpture of my head the reality sunk in that most of it was on the floor. Before cutting the hairdresser gave me a relaxer (which never happened again when I tried to grow it out and have it cut again)
The drive with me and my father to the Animal medical hospital. Her hair was everywhere on the back seat and she slipped and slid with the turn of the car with a loud bump. She was sick. She almost fell on the seat as we made the turn. Never did I believe I would feel the way I did. Death was not common in my life other than seeing my mother getting out of her car in August 1998 crying, with a personal pain that could be seen on her face, her father had passed. We went to the funeral and all that, bought a black and white horizontally wide stripped dress with black oxford shoes to wear from Kohls, and I remember being there in that same church my mother grew up going to with her four brothers "going through the experience" and not having much to feel. Didn't know how to feel. As we handed her over to the female vet care I rubbed her head and said, "It's going to be okay Snowball"...as if she could "hear" me talking to her. We handed the leash over to the woman ready to let her go. She led my dog around the corner, then I started welling up and it all came over me. I couldn't do it. Not yet. We asked the woman to bring her back and she walked back, just casually not knowing what was going on, just like any other day. I got down on my knees and I embraced my dog, held her like I was hugging her because that's what I needed to do...It was my way of saying I love you, goodbye for now. It was like she knew And I'm proud to have done that because it would've stayed with me for all these years after. Her hair was stuck all over my over-sized Polo hoodie I've had since middle school. I didn't want to wash it- it still smelled like her. We received a special letter in the mail during the week of Christmas addressed from the Animal clinic- it was blue paper with the sweetest poem pretty much just saying she is in a better place and we'll see each other again. At the bottom were her two paw prints. It was so touching and I felt peace. Truly did. She was not suffering anymore and her soul was free. After feeling my head for the usual thickness of hair and realizing I felt more of the sculpture of my head the reality sunk in that most of it was on the floor. Before cutting the hairdresser gave me a relaxer (which never happened again when I tried to grow it out and have it cut again)
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