It hurts so bad. That jerking feeling your heart has when you've cried until your head hurts and your eyes feel like sandpaper. It's heartache. I think it's trying to come out of my throat, like my chest is rejecting it. I'm in a tunnel, everything is fuzzy around me and I see is what's in front of me, but I'm not focusing on it. I'm dumbfounded, lost. In a state of shock, I suppose. Last night Lee and I were snuggling on the couch and I was surprised to hear the words come out, but I told him I felt incomplete. He understood, which makes him a great person. A lot of people might have thought that was a stupid thing to feel after the loss of a dog, but he got it. I love him so much. Look out Lee, I have extra love to spread around now that my Mindy is gone. I know we have Ollie and Ruby, but my love for Mindy was different and I'm unable to feel the same for them. They don't take care of me like Mindy did. It's not in their breeds. Ruby is a hunter. She's not even supposed to be a house dog. Some beagles are house dogs, but not her. She's adjusted to me and how I want her to be, but is much happier in the yard looking over the neighborhood or running rabbits in the woods. She is not concerned with my pain. For some reason I thought she'd care that I hurt. Oliver is a lover, a lap dog, but more about getting attention than giving it. He's not very observant either. He doesn't console me while I cry. It's not true that a dog can be replaced. I expected them to cushion this blow, but this has caused them to become "just dogs" to me today. Maybe it's a defense mechanism. Maybe I'm trying to not love them so much. That would be a mistake, I know.

I laid in bed last night, beating myself up, like I so obviously love to do, telling myself that I could have loved Mindy more, that I could have given her more attention over the years. I know that's crazy talk. My life revolves around these animals like they're my kids. They get what I believe to be the best food, I find myself filling their bowl with filtered water, lol, then, I watch Ruby drink stagnant water from the bird bath/bucket or puddle....FOOL!...me or her...both, Mindy even still had a little chunk of a Milkbone I'd given her before we left in her jaw. Dr. Hastings found it and took it out. I smiled when I told Lee, "She was saving it for later", like we often joked of her doing. Not this time precious baby. Sorry. I didn't make sure you finished it. Anyway, I spoiled my dog and made sure she got the best care I could give her. Lee built her a ramp so she wouldn't hurt herself on the stairs, we got rid of her cancer, we took vitamin supplements for our joints and iron and such, and in the end we took incontinence medication and when that failed, I made sure she got a fresh blanket to lay on everyday. All of this bought us about two and a half years. You didn't die because you were sick or unhealthy. You outlived your little body.

I stopped the doctor just before he put the needle in her foot the first time. I told him I couldn't do it. Then, I remembered that I was going to be brave for Mindy and do this calmly, so I didn't scare her. I didn't want her to leave that way. I said okay and he, thankfully, didn't hesitate and she was gone. Just like that. No, I wasn't ready. I never would have been.

It was very hard letting her go. Mom came over and complained about being cold, but I couldn't shut the front door while Mindy was on the porch. I never could. When she was ready to come in, she'd come tap on the storm door with those claws I never could keep short enough. I couldn't put her in the ground. It kills me to think of her out there right now. All alone and cold. She didn't like either. I wrapped her in the blanket I thought she'd like best. It kept her warm until Lee got home and it is a little comfort to me to think she is still snuggled down in it. Lee took care of putting her in the hole and covering her for me. I keep thinking that I hear her. I hear her claws tap as she walks across the floor, or the flapping noise her ears made when she shook her head when she woke up. She haunted me last night. No, I haven't gone crazy...yet. I still felt her here, but felt the emptiness at the same time.

I told Lee that one day I may go to a kennel and pick out the perfect puppy again, like I did with Mindy. Perhaps another little red dachshund, all full of spunk and looking for a mom that can give it right back at her. We belonged to each other, Mindy and me. But it wouldn't be the same, because the next time I will know that no matter how much I love and care for that special dog, that perfect little puppy for me, one day I will probably have to watch her die and may even have to be the one who ends her life. Yes, I will be more cautious because I now know. Dr Hastings said he was sorry. I said something else that surprised me when it came out of my mouth, I said that I wasn't. I said we had a good 15 years together. It was good.


Miss Mindy Whitten
September 14, 1995
December 28, 2010