OverCaffeinated: Why Terrible Things Are Good, Sometimes

Why Terrible Things Are Good, Sometimes

On June 15^th 2015, I lost my dog Scamp. It was arguably the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. A few months ago we took him into the vet for dental work and for him to be neutered. Everything on his blood work came out perfect, and he was, seemingly, extremely healthy. During those vet visits I was a wreck. I was so nervous and worried for my boy. He was my baby. For eleven and a half years he slept in my bed with me every night, and apparently cried at my door for me when I wasn’t home. I annoyed that dog with my affection all the time, haha. I would force him to lay on me while I was lying on the floor, and make him sit on the couch with me, and it annoyed him sometimes. Since I’ve been homeschooled my whole life, I spent most days being home in my room doing schoolwork for hours. He was almost always with me. Of course, he wanted my attention NOT when I was annoying him with affection, but when I was trying to do school. Go figure. I’ll never forget how he would put his face on my lap and look up at me with those puppy eyes, and wagging his stub-for-a-tail knowing I would pause whatever I was doing to love on him. I will also never forget how happy he got when I would come home. He would lose his mind. Our ritual was, when I would come home, we would have a love fest since we were reunited. I loved coming home to that. It made coming home a happy occasion, no matter what.

So, obviously, when he had to spend the day at the vet to lose some teeth (and a few other things – poor boy) I was nervous and I cried a lot. When we went to pick him up that night, I lost it at the veterinary office as soon as I saw him and cried for another hour. I think I was happy that he was alright, sad that he had to go through that and was all dopey and sleepy from such a long day, and just plain relieved that he was with me again. For the next few days I babied him like the baby he was. But he recovered, and was the happiest, healthiest pup. Almost like a brand new puppy. Before that surgery, he had started to act like an old man, but afterwards, that was different. He also acted even more attached to me, and honestly, I was probably more attached to him.

Since then he had good days and bad days. Some days he was a bounding puppy that licked my face and wanted to play with his favorite toys. Other days he didn’t leave my bed. It was concerning, but we (my parents and I) didn’t think much of it. A few days before we lost him, Scamp perked up like never before. We all were making comments about how happy he was. The Friday before the Monday we lost him, when I came home, we had an extra-long love fest. I remember it so well. He was so ecstatic. He happily lay on my stomach and licked my face and I’m sure if my parents could remember exactly they could report and agree that I was laughing and giggling at Scamp. That weekend was similar. He was like a puppy again, until Monday, when I woke up and he couldn’t move.

We took him into the vet, and to our surprise, he had a cancerous mass on his stomach that was bleeding into his stomach. He could hardly breathe and was connected to oxygen immediately. The vet (before knowing about the cancerous mass) was going to do exploratory surgery. She said there was a big chance he wouldn’t make it off the table, but my mom and I told her to do whatever it takes. While prepping for that surgery, they found the mass, and one that matched on his heart. If the surgery was successful and they fixed up his stomach, it would only be a matter of time until his the one on his heart would begin to bleed, and there was absolutely nothing to be done about that, and he would die a painful death. There was no surgery to be done. Unfortunately, a horrible decision was to be made. My dad and sister came to the vet, and we got to spend some time with my boy during his final hour of life.

Coming home was rough. My room felt so empty. For the next few days, I avoided my room. Which is very odd for me, because my bedroom was usually my sanctuary, and to be out of it for any length of time felt unnatural. But I almost slept on the couch some nights, because my room just didn’t feel right anymore. I started realizing how much I thought about Scamp, and I just didn’t notice it before. If Scamp wasn’t sleeping in my bed at night, he was on the floor against the bed in arms reach. I never thought about it until I did it and didn’t find him, but at night I would reach out searching for him in the dark and would pet him until I fell asleep. Of course, out of habit, I reached for him (because he wasn’t in my bed) without even realizing what I was doing. When it hit me, it hit hard. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact he was gone. I still can’t. It still hits me. I think about that dog every day. I think about things of the future, and without realizing, I include him somewhere, and then I have to remind myself that he’s gone.

One thing that I kept repeating during the initial grieving process was: “It was just so unexpected.” I had every intention on coming home with my Scamp that day. Ladies and gentlemen, please give extra love and attention to your pets. It’s just so unexpected when these things happen. I asked the vet “Why didn’t we see this a few months ago when we were here?” and she answered, simply, “Because it wasn’t there.” Cancer sucks. Cancer is a terrible, terrible thing.

Understandably, there must be people who think I’m insane for being so messed up after losing an animal. Honestly, sometimes I think I’m insane for it. I feel like I lost a person. At the beginning I tried to tell myself things like: “You could have lost a parent. But you just lost a dog.” This is a true statement, but that didn’t make my pain any easier to handle. I was surprised by how seriously I was taken by so, so many people. People told me that they cried for me because they could imagine how hard this was. Someone even told me that it’s harder than losing a person, because they become a part of you. Scamp was an amazing part of me.

The love I’ve been getting from so many people is really amazing. It made me realize that I’m not insane for being so upset about Scamp, and that people get through things in their own time and in their own ways. I might not understand why this had to happen to me and it was my dog that had to be taken away, but I don’t blame God. The day I lost him, I prayed all throughout that everything would be okay with Scamp. Even though it didn’t turn out that way, I still felt God that day. Something as little as the vets 4:00 appointment magically not showing up, allowing the vet more time for Scamp proved (to me) that God had a handle on things. I feel God through the love of everyone around me, who made me realize how much these people really care. I really wish I understood why God lets terrible things happen. But without God, could we get through these terrible things? I believe not.

In an odd, almost sadistic thought, bad things are sometimes the best things that could happen to us. They bring us closer to God. They make us realize how much we need Him. Without the dark, we wouldn’t know the light.