Discover more from the animal eats
Once more. There.
Texts I sent and didn't send, things I did and did not say, words I read that nearly worked the week that I lost Mimsy.
First things first, let’s say what happened:
I didn’t lose her. I let her go.
We knew it was coming and it came.
My heart has been in pieces and so has my mind. I don’t know how else to get through it except—forgive me—one day at a time.
Sunday, October 17
Monday, October 18
I do not get out of bed.
I may never get out of bed.
I don’t want to do another bullshit day in HellWorld without something small and sweet to love.
My phone is a bottomless pit. There is nothing for me there. I turn on Do Not Disturb and practice wishful thinking. I begin to read Parakeet.
The worst part? Right now?
Apart from dragging your bones uncompanioned from one room to the next?
My dog is dead and my lips are chapped. I feel entirely disrespected.
Am I supposed to be doing something?
What am I supposed to be doing.
I feel like I’m supposed to be doing something.
Kyle, a monster, says I have to eat.
I do not want to eat.
I want to be with grief and nothing else. It’s the only place she is now.
I’ve lost dogs before. This feels different.
I look for my heart in every empty room.
I finish reading Parakeet.
“It's challenging to be around someone in pain. People worry it will get on them."
Tuesday, October 19
I wake up to flowers and Sonny’s head on my arm, which is an improvement over the absence. I do not wake up crying.
Will I be good without Mimsy? The best parts of me were hers. Patience. Presence. Easy, generous love. She’s the first thing in my life I’ve gotten totally right.
I made only good choices. Took her to the vet when she needed to go. Gave her what was good for her and the right amount of it. She liked being alive. I liked keeping her that way, as long as she wanted. Emmy asked me if the roles were reversed, what would I have wanted for me? Peace and painlessness, I told her.
I know. I know.
I must practice remembering Mimsy.
Wednesday, October 19
So I really have to get out of bed and read emails every day until I die huh?
Nermin reminds me no, I don’t have to.
Meaning making machines that we are, we’re always trying to story ourselves into sense.
Here is what happened.
Here’s what it means.
Here’s who I am because of it.
I only want to think about her.
It hurts to think about her.
She is not that anymore. She is different.
She isn’t here.
I only want to think about when she was.
I share what I have to and nothing more, not yet.
The love pours in.
I thought I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t.
I let it in anyway.
Thursday, October 20
My god that dog was loved.
I make french toast and we drive to Buffalo Grove to bring my small girl home. She is smaller than before.
I make little altars everywhere. I bring her home.
Friday, October 21
I see how this will go.
I will get used to the right side of me missing.
I will stop seeing her where she isn’t.
When I think of her it will not drop an anvil on my heart, on my stupid stupid heart.
I will write poems that aren’t about grief and/or Mimsy.
This will be true one day and it isn’t today.
Saturday, October 22
It’s not today either.
The challenge of leaving the house is of course coming home to a house without her in it.
I will practice this too.