I turned to my sister when we came home, coming up to the door when it hit me that my bubba wouldn't be on the other side of the door when it opened, and said, "The hardest part of saying goodbye is knowing you can never again say hello."
And the first few cold nights in bed... those were hard. I reached over the first time to nudge Geronimo and make him come lay at my feet, but he wasn't there.
It's getting better though. Aside from my dream I was petting Geronimo and I woke up petting my table above my bed... >.>
Thank you for your thoughts and words.
It's difficult, but I know I can make it. Hane is getting a little more attention now. For a while I had little interest in any of the animals here... sort of in a fog so to speak. I'm making a new routine. I still try to call Geronimo to follow me up to bed sometimes (eleven and a half years of that are hard to erase). Socrates still runs around in the evenings, looking for my bubba to play with, as they usually did. I'm focusing more on Hane right now, but still have trouble with the other dogs. They aren't mine, they never were. I never treated them as my own. Nothing much has changed there. I'm looking at some akitas up for adoption. I'm not ready for another just yet, lol. I need to finish mourning. When I find the right one, I'll know it. Always did.
My sister saw what I was typing next, and told me, "You're typing the life
of your dog. This is going to take two
I was eleven when we were at the SPCA looking for a new dog (my first dog, a golden named Skippy, had died) and I saw Geronimo and asked to see him in the yard. He didn't pay one lick of attention to me.
Didn't look at me, sniff me, etc. Just walked around the yard marking it. I tried his name, which he didn't come to (I don't blame him, it wasn't a good name) and I thought, 'great, I can change his name!'. So I told my parents that was the one I wanted, lol. They were... unsure. They had me look at some other dogs, which I didn't like and still insisted upon Geronimo (I had already chosen the name before we went looking).
And so we got my bubba, parents still somewhat reluctant. He was a year old and had been there at the SPCA for six months- that was half his life. His previous owners said he had too much energy. -.- He was a puppy. Duh. We got him home and he just ran. For days. For weeks. I was quite proud of him, lol, as he had the most gorgeous physique after all that exercise. He had a lot and a half to run in and he took full advantage of it. After a few weeks, I managed to talk my parents into letting Geronimo be an inside dog. They eventually agreed- again reluctantly. Not that they didn't want an inside dog, they just weren't sure about him. Fortunately, he had no bad habits and fit right in.
Obedience training was a challenge though. o.O;
My first dog, being a golden retriever would fetch all day and had an overwhelming desire to please. I learned Geronimo was different.
I threw a ball for him, and he went to get it. After some coaxing he brought it back, and after even more coaxing he dropped it. I threw the ball again. He looked at where I had thrown it, looked back at me with an expression that read 'if you didn't want it in the first place, I wouldn't have brought it back to you' and he walked off.
So he wasn't a fetcher. Okay, no problem.
Skippy used to accompany me out into the alley when I took the trash to the dumpster. So I took Geronimo with me (off-leash, just like Skippy) and he didn't run. I came back into the yard and Geronimo wouldn't come when I called him. Now, with Skippy, when this happened I closed the gate and began loving up on our other dog, Molly. Skippy came to the gate and when he was desperately trying to get in, I finally let him back in, never had a problem with him coming when he was called after that. So I tried this with Geronimo. I was sitting, loving up on Molly, telling her how good she was etc. etc. Geronimo came up to the gate, took one look at me, at the gate, and then promtly turned and took himself for a walk.
I had a lot to learn about training dogs. And Geronimo sure taught me. He had a fierce independent streak and challenged me at every turn. And I loved it. I loved the challenge. He never did win, but he sure tried.
My Dad used to turn to me, while petting Geronimo, and tell me he was happy I chose him. That he was the perfect dog for us.
He was a good dog. Simple as that.
- - - - - - - - -
I do miss him. A lot. With Skippy, I had a month to say goodbye, after his meds stopped working. With Geronimo, I had a hurried half-hour. It wasn't enough.
*realizes she is depressing with her writing* >.> lol