Last night I had a huge insight into why I feel so bad after
the death of My Best Friend, Pica. For the past 17.5 years she has been my dependant, my furkid,
and I performed all the everyday living tasks for her that she couldn’t do for
herself. I fed her, made sure her water bowl was full at all times, washed her
bedding, took her to the vet annually or when I thought she was sick, took her
out to pee and poop, I bathed her, played with her, took her for walks, bought
her toys and food, made sure she got flea and tick and heartworm prevention
every month, loved her. After her death on February 8, my services are longer
needed. We picked up her ashes at the vet on February 10th, one of
the final, final things to do. It has only been 3 days since she died. I don’t
have My Best Friend to take care of anymore. I am at a loss for what to do
next. This is the time when most people would look for another pet, but I have
analyzed that scenario and decided that is not an option for me. The pain of
loss is too great to do it again in another 15 years or so. I’m 65 years
old. I will be selling my home in another 5 years and would probably have a
hard time finding a rental that takes pets. Living on a fixed income does not
leave a lot of discretionary money available to care for another dependant. What if I died before
my new Best Friend did? And I just don’t want to feel this bad ever again. Reasons and excuses? Maybe. Right now I would seek grief counseling but I’m not sure Medicare covers any
mental health issues. So I will busy myself by scouring my digital photo albums
for pictures of Pica and putting them all together in one place. I will
organize all her health records that I have kept throughout her life (yes, I
kept everything, even her baby teeth). I have already put her blanket and
clothes and leashes and other keepsakes inside the crate that was HER home.
Slowly, I will become more accustomed to not seeing her coming down the hall to
tell me she has to go out or that it is bedtime. Eventually I will realize that
I don’t have to get home quickly from shopping to make sure she is OK. At some
time in the future I will be able to sleep through the night without thinking I
hear her waking up to go out. Life will morph into a new normal for me, without
My Best Friend. And although I believe I better understand the dynamics of loss
and grief, why I miss her so much, and that I was just as dependent on her as
she was on me, it doesn’t help much.
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