My dog died on New Year's Day- the first freaking day of 2011. He was 10 years old.
I guess technically he was my brother's dog, but for all intents and purposes, he was mine. Shadow was a Scottie dog- they can be a little bit aloof and they like their alone time. But he loved me and earning his love meant something because he didn't feel that way about most anyone else. When I was pregnant with Spencer, it was as if he could sense I needed him and he slept beside me every night. He didn't really like to sleep with anyone because he was afraid of heights, couldn't jump very high, and liked having his own space to stretch without touching anyone. But during those months he'd jump up beside me and settle in the crook of my bent legs, never leaving my side.
When we first brought him home, I was ridiculously allergic to him- so much so that I went on allergy shots- 12 injections a week for 52 weeks. I loved that dog so much, I went on allergy shots for him!
But then something just stopped working inside him.
And I wasn't there.
And he died.
When I needed him, he never left me, but when he needed me, I wasn't there. He died and I wasn't there and I should have been.
My eyes are swollen into little tiny slits because I can't stop crying.
I don't like 2011; it stinks. I guess the only good thing is that it has to get better, right?
I am going to miss you Shadow, my little Stinky Stinkerson, Little Man Boy.