When it rains, it poursAnd two nights ago my dog Wesley was killed.
He was ten years old, a Boston Terrier. I always jokingly told people that he was 'the love of my life.' The coyotes got him. We let him out late at night and he didn't come back. My mom went out with a flashlight and saw beady yellow eyes and found blood in the orchard behind our house. We've always had coyotes in the area, but we hadn't seen or heard them in years until that night. There was no reason to suspect he was in danger. He was stocky and fierce (for a Boston)--he had scared off much bigger animals than coyotes in the past. I guess this time he was just too old or there were too many of them.
He deserved so much better. Wesley was special. No one likes to lose their pet, but you have to understand what Wesley meant to my family. Yes, he was a dog, but he was not just a dog. He was the glue in my family. My family has gone through a lot of physical, mental, and emotional issues in the past few years, and even in the darkest times, Wesley could always make us smile. When we could barely stand to look at each other, there was always Wesley. When I went away to college, and then to China, it was Wesley I missed most--when I called home, my parents would hold the phone to him so I could talk to him. He went everywhere with us--even had a ridiculous little dog lifejacket so he could go to the ocean with us. He was so smart and emotionally receptive that he could be creepily human-like. I always said he was the only dog capable of sarcasm.
The Wesleyan dynasty in the Ronia story is named after him. Dakerai's full name is Dakerai Alexander Wesley. His sister's name is Allodie Shelby Wesley. Alexander was my first dog, a lab, who died when I was nine or ten. When I named them, we had just gotten Shelby and Wesley as little puppies. There's something to be said about the fucked up-ness of growing up that all three of those beloved dogs are now gone.
Wesley was ten, and had gained dignified rings of grey on his muzzle, and I was just starting to come to terms with his mortality. We got our new puppy Harley to keep him active and happy as he got older, and they were instant buddies. I knew it would be devastating to lose him, but I never expected it would come so soon, and without any warning.
I have never been so devastated, so heartbroken. Even when my grandfathers died, they were sick, we had time, we were able to say goodbye to each other. I had always hoped Wesley would go out in his sleep while dozing by the woodstove. But torn apart by a pack of coyotes? Intellectually, I know it's just nature, the coyotes are just animals and so was Wesley, but I can't help but feel like a terrible murder has been committed--they should have known Wesley was better than that, that he was not just some sickly rabbit for them to feast on. The thought that one of my best buddies was eaten is so horrifying. The only thing my parents had to bury were some bloody leaves. Wesley deserved so much better than that.
(I feel so weirdly betrayed. Coyotes were my favorite animal growing up. My favorite childhood toy was a stuffed coyote. I'm trying to understand that it's just nature being nature, but I can't get over the perverseness.)
And I deserved better than that. It's futile to blame the world for being unfair, but I can't help it. It was awful, but when his sister Shelby was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, I remember guiltily thinking 'at least it's not Wesley,' because I'd always been closer with Wesley, who was more cuddly and affectionate. It just seemed like our love should have protected him somehow. It's how I feel about my parents--no, they can't die, because they CAN'T, I can't deal with that, I love them too much, so it just CAN'T happen. It was like I had bargained with God--okay, you'll take Shelby, but leave Wesley. It just seems unfair that one of the souls I loved most was taken away so much more brutally than the others. The scales aren't level.
I've never cried so hard in my life. I couldn't deal with classes today. This week was already stressful because I have to pick my classes for next semester and make sure that I'm going to graduate--and, naturally, everything in the Chinese department is fucked up--and I just burst into tears in front of my stunned academic advisor. Part of what sucks so much is that he was a dog. Mourning a pet is fucked up because, cognitively, you know they're animals, you always knew you were going to outlive them, and we're never supposed to value them over human lives. People are sympathetic, but there's always that unsaid element of 'well...he was just a dog.' It's hard for people who have never had a close relationship with a dog or who don't know my family to really understand. This was not just some dog we kept tied to a pole in our backyard and pet once in a while. Honestly, this is much worse than when I lost some of my relatives. Just the suddenness of it makes it worse. I cannot fathom how people who lose their friends or family to car accidents or heart attacks cope with it. I don't know how they do it, and I hope I never find out.
I'll be all right, eventually. Right now, though, I'm just heartbroken.
Anguish
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- Michelangelo, advising a student
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"The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him...the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."~ The Return of the King
You've got a pretty rad gallery yourself!
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- Michelangelo, advising a student
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"The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him...the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."~ The Return of the King
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彼女はそう言います
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- Michelangelo, advising a student
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Nice Guys Finish Last
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