Cash (June 5, 2017-March 19, 2024)
It’s so strange, to me—the emptiness.
The space that used to be filled has gone silent. The bed is empty. The food dish unfilled.
I find myself haunted by absence. An imagined footfall or jingle of a collar. A whine in the night.
Walking down the stairs with the expectation of happy butt wiggles and cute, seal-faced joy. Being careful not to drop food, because the dog might eat it. (He pounced on everything you dropped, always. He was on a very particular diet for health reasons.)
So much of my life and my daily life revolved around him. A few summers back, my dad even painted the back sliding door, because Cash was very offended that birds exist and kept hurling himself at the glass. Once he couldn’t see them, he chilled out. He also was annoyed if someone was Outside and he was inside. Keep in mind, he didn't want to be outside. He just didn't want you out there.
Cash had a very specific bed time. He could tell time incredibly well. And he would be very annoyed if his bedtime came and went and he wasn’t tucked in. He’d stare at you, like, “Hey, excuse me. We’re late.” He knew different days of the week, and he knew when to expect one of my siblings for a weekly visit.
He objected to departures, because how dare you. The only way to placate him was to offer him a plate of snackies as you exited. He loved bananas and ice cubes with a little bit of pumpkin frozen in them. I still have a whole baggie of them in the freezer. I'd just made him a fresh batch of sweet potatoes, his favorite treat, the other day. I cannot bring myself to throw them out yet.
He was very smart and learned tricks fast. This was the first dog I ever trained without my mother around. Sometimes, I was very sure he was smarter than me. He was also very, very stubborn, and you could tell when he heard a command and was like, nope.
Cash had anxiety. He was on meds. (Big fan of meds. The difference they made for him was incredible.) He saw a specialist. She was a godsend and went above and beyond to help, especially when he started to have health issues last year. Then, in Sept., he bloated, and an emergency surgery saved his life. The second I realized the symptoms (because I dive into research mode when I am trying to fix or help), it was off to the doggo ER before the sun began to rise.
Most dogs are fine after bloat surgery, if it's caught in time. Cash was not. Because Cash also had IBD and to get him to eat following his surgery, he got food that he wasn’t supposed to have. This caused all sorts of chaos for him. For months, I hand-filled a new medicine (powder into gel caps). I became very good at it, despite looking like I was moonlighting as Walter White. Or Scarface. Later, I made approximately 400 phone calls to get him a different med that he needed and had to come from a specialized pharmacy.
By all accounts, he should’ve died back in September, so the time since then has been extra time. I missed so many things taking care of him, spending time with him, playing allllll the rounds of fetch (his favorite). It took up so much of my time and energy. This is the summarized version. But I would’ve done it forever, if it would have made a difference. And I’d do it all again tomorrow, even feeling the way I do right now. I don't love small.
Love is a privilege. I know he loved me entirely. And I loved him with all my damn heart.
