It Had to Happen Sometime

I decided to go ahead and get this over with. Let me just say that after all that's happened these past few days, I seriously considered deleting that last post. Then I thought to myself, No. That's not a good idea. You see, the last time I was sitting here typing, I was cradling a tiny, sleeping puppy in my lap. That was five days ago. Now, I'm sitting here alone in an empty house. There isn't any Bella to cuddle anymore. Just me.

This year has been anything but fun. In fact, it's been the complete and total opposite of fun. I've had to say "good-bye" to a lot of things. Good-bye, Dad's job. Good-bye, lifestyle. Good-bye, beach house. Good-bye, summer vacations. Good-bye, stay-at-home Mom. Good-bye, house. Good-bye, Boston. Maybe I'll see you later, Belmont. Good-bye, laptop. Good-bye, friend. Good-bye, happiness. Good-bye, comfort. Good-bye, stability. Good-bye, sleep. Worst of all, Good-bye, Bella...it sucks.

We got Bella in June. My mom and I had wanted her for about two years. We dreamed about her. We saved up for her. She had a name. She had toys and treats and more toys. She had our hearts, and we didn't even know her yet. Then, we found her, or, rather, she found us. She became real- a little, fluffy diva who yapped and ran and snuggled and chewed and jumped and kissed...

We couldn't afford to go on vacation this summer, so my days were filled with puppy-duty. I watched her while my mom worked. I slept on the couch the first few weeks we had her. She'd whine in the middle of the night, and I would get up to comfort her. She could fit in the palm of my hand. She had all sorts of funny faces and habits, like shredding the towel after bath time to take out her vengeance for being tortured with water and suds. Stuff like that that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Because of Bella, I was happy during a tough time.

I saw her for the last time on Saturday. She turned 9-months-old that day. I held her on the way to the vet's office. She was so small and fragile, but she still fit just right in my arms. When they told us to leave her for the weekend, I walked out. I remember pausing outside thinking I didn't kiss her good-bye. What an odd thought. I wish I had gone back in.

Later that day, they called us and told us about the emergency operation they had to perform. We waited. They called again telling us just how bad it had turned out to be, no easy fix. We waited. They called Sunday night and said things were going "pretty good" but it was still too early to tell. We waited. I went to school Monday. Got called to the office just before 2nd period. She had died early that morning. I was crushed.

The truth is that I'm tired of there never being any happy-endings. I'm exhausted, really. For the first time, I could care less about Christmas. It's probably just going to be another disappointing, dull, and gray day. The summation of my year.

I got a dog over the summer. She was something pretty special. She was the tiny thread that held this shaky family together.

What happens now?