(no subject)
Nov. 26th, 2006 03:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oselleDaisy was cremated on Friday. I got to see her for a little while beforehand. I was worried about how she'd look after being dead for almost a week even though, of course, she'd been kept in a freezer.
She looked lovely. They had laid her out on a blanket with a little white pillow and white coverlet. I tied a St. Francis medal around her neck and tucked a bunch of daisies under her paw. They had folded her paws together, just like when she used to sleep. Her tail was curled up, and my sister said that meant she was happy. Friday was a gorgeous and very warm day and it was nice to walk around the cemetery and read all of the grave markers. The cemetery, up in Hartsdale, feels like it's in the country. Everyone working there was very kind and respectful.
I picked up Daisy's ashes a couple of hours later. They had put them in a little floral tin, like the kind that nice tea comes in. This went into a little white shopping bag. There seemed an absurdity to be walking away from there with a little shopping bag of my dog's remains. But I felt well when that was over, relieved. It was a beautiful day, and a peaceful event.
I've been feeling a lot worse since then, not sure why. This morning I finally looked in the little tin. I thought it would look soft and sandy, like fireplace ashes, but it was crumbly, like finely-ground cement. I've been referring to it as my "$10,000 box of dirt." Little gray crumbles, all that's left of my dog. I put a St. Francis mass card and a cut daisy in the tin and shut it up. I put that in a basket with her sweater and leash and toys, and put all that in my bedroom.
On my bed, I have a rolled-up blanket that was covering the couch when Daisy died. I can't bear to put in the wash. I also have one of her oldest and most beat-up toys, a deflated teddy bear that was stitched up so many times it looks like Frankenteddy. I have these things on my bed, even though they're dirty. This morning I noticed some very faint yellow stains on my bedspread and I think Daisy might have been peeing in bed just a little in the last days that she slept with me. It doesn't smell or anything, but I can't imagine what else those stains could be. Still, I don't want to wash my bedspread, just like I don't want to wash the blanket.
I feel like shit. I miss my dog. I'd go out for a walk but there's nowhere in this neighborhood I could go that I didn't once go with Daisy trotting along ahead of me, her tags jingling and her corkscrew tail bouncing from side to side. I miss her big goofy grin, full of tiny crooked teeth. I miss her funky little smell in the house. I miss her snoring and lip-smacking, even though by the end she wasn't doing any of those things anymore -- not snoring, not grinning, not even smelling. In fact she had no scent at all by the end, all of her dogginess had faded away.
Sorry for being like this. I want to thank everyone for listening and especially thank the people who sent cards and gifts. You've all been exceptionally patient and kind and I really do appreciate it. But I miss my dog. I have a box of gray crumbles where I once had a dog. And I'm superstitious and scared. Is everything good going to come untrue?
She looked lovely. They had laid her out on a blanket with a little white pillow and white coverlet. I tied a St. Francis medal around her neck and tucked a bunch of daisies under her paw. They had folded her paws together, just like when she used to sleep. Her tail was curled up, and my sister said that meant she was happy. Friday was a gorgeous and very warm day and it was nice to walk around the cemetery and read all of the grave markers. The cemetery, up in Hartsdale, feels like it's in the country. Everyone working there was very kind and respectful.
I picked up Daisy's ashes a couple of hours later. They had put them in a little floral tin, like the kind that nice tea comes in. This went into a little white shopping bag. There seemed an absurdity to be walking away from there with a little shopping bag of my dog's remains. But I felt well when that was over, relieved. It was a beautiful day, and a peaceful event.
I've been feeling a lot worse since then, not sure why. This morning I finally looked in the little tin. I thought it would look soft and sandy, like fireplace ashes, but it was crumbly, like finely-ground cement. I've been referring to it as my "$10,000 box of dirt." Little gray crumbles, all that's left of my dog. I put a St. Francis mass card and a cut daisy in the tin and shut it up. I put that in a basket with her sweater and leash and toys, and put all that in my bedroom.
On my bed, I have a rolled-up blanket that was covering the couch when Daisy died. I can't bear to put in the wash. I also have one of her oldest and most beat-up toys, a deflated teddy bear that was stitched up so many times it looks like Frankenteddy. I have these things on my bed, even though they're dirty. This morning I noticed some very faint yellow stains on my bedspread and I think Daisy might have been peeing in bed just a little in the last days that she slept with me. It doesn't smell or anything, but I can't imagine what else those stains could be. Still, I don't want to wash my bedspread, just like I don't want to wash the blanket.
I feel like shit. I miss my dog. I'd go out for a walk but there's nowhere in this neighborhood I could go that I didn't once go with Daisy trotting along ahead of me, her tags jingling and her corkscrew tail bouncing from side to side. I miss her big goofy grin, full of tiny crooked teeth. I miss her funky little smell in the house. I miss her snoring and lip-smacking, even though by the end she wasn't doing any of those things anymore -- not snoring, not grinning, not even smelling. In fact she had no scent at all by the end, all of her dogginess had faded away.
Sorry for being like this. I want to thank everyone for listening and especially thank the people who sent cards and gifts. You've all been exceptionally patient and kind and I really do appreciate it. But I miss my dog. I have a box of gray crumbles where I once had a dog. And I'm superstitious and scared. Is everything good going to come untrue?