Friday, August 1, 2008

So I realize that a lot (if not most) of my friends on MyOtaku either quit or stopped posting, thus leaving me with no readers and nothing to read. Honestly, that's fine. It's just that today something pretty bad happened to me...or rather it happened to my saint bernard, Oodie. Oodie, my dog, has been like a companion/friend to me these past five years. He slept with me every evening, kept me warm when out heating broke, cuddled up to me when a bunch of stressful legal stuff happened with my father, and has just been there for me. I understand that he's a dog and that he could never speak or comfort me a way a human is able to. But sometimes things happen and you just don't want to tell anyone about it because it's so painful, stressful, what have you. Oodie was always there though. Granted he just wanted to be petted, fed, and scubbled but he was still my dog and I loved him for that. Today I had an interview with one of my prospective colleges. That morning I woke up and was annoyed back the fact I had to get up twenty minutes early to feed and walk Oodie in order to have time to get ready and arrive on time for the interview. I fed my baby boy, who is actually not a baby but a five-year-old-full-grown dog, walked him, and played with him a bit. I left him in the much colder garage today so that he wouldn't be over heated and so that he could have some space to run around in (our garage is really empty and huge!). Once he was settled in I waved a farewell to him and said "I love you, Oodie! Be a good boy for me today!" and then I left to get ready to leave. At lunch today my mother called my grandfather to ask him to take Oodie for a walk and to make sure he has water. He was more thatn happy to do so since he also loved my Oodie. Glad to know that my baby was in good hands, I happily ate my lunch. We drove home to see my stepfather and one of his collegues parked in oru driveway. This was odd since neither of them were off work today. My stepfather's collegue started talking with me--and I was proud to boast that my "driving skillz" were so great that no one died-- while he spoke with my mom. I don't remember exactly what he said my grandfather told him but I heard the words "Oodie" and "not moving." I freaked out and ran to the door, which was locked, and then waited for my stepdad to open the garage door so I could check on my dog. Please note that Oodie is *my* dog. As in *my* responsibility and *mine* to look after. He lay there on the ground as if he was sleeping. I freaked out. I called his name and there was no response. So I rand to his side and shook him a little whiel saying his name. But Oodie was cold, stiff, and hard. I screamed and started crying. My dog was dead and we had no idea how or why. Oodie was in perfect health just that morning. Hell, he was even playing with me while he ate breakfast! But now here he was, on the cement floor, alone and dead. My dog, who I loved like a little kid, was dead with no explanation. For all I knew I could have accidentally killed him-- fed him something bad or overheated him in the garage. My grandfather had called the vet, who called us soon after we found Oodie. He told us that it was likely that Oodie had a heart attack in his sleep, juding by my dog's position and the normal conditions of the garage (the conditions were fine: the garage was clean and cooler than the warm temperature outside. He also had at least two full bowls of water.). I spazzed. I started crying all over the place--I later found that all my mascara had been washed away. It still sucks and stings and hurts that I don't know what really happened to my Oodie--the heart attack is merely a guess. I just don't understand and I want my Oodie back. We went through hell to keep him alive when he was a pup--he had terribel hip displasia and other medical problems that we solved--and I did my best to make sure that he was always comfortable. So it really hurts that he died like that: all alone with no one to comfort him. But the vet and doggie-mortician (whatever you call that occupation) believe Oodie died in his sleep. But either way, I miss my Oodie. And I want him back. So that's how I'm currently feeling. Yea, it seems kind of dumb that I'm all worked up about a dog, but I went through a lot with my Oodie and he always helped me to feel safe. It's kinda hard not to feel safe when a 200 pound Saint Bernard sleeps at the foot of your bed every ight for five years. Now I just feel extrememly sad and upset. So...I just had to write about it since I don't really want to bother anyone in my family about it. But...that's it. I'm done for a while. I need a nap and some ice cream. *waves* See ya when I feel a tad happier. ~Akuzmi

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