The Sweet Kiss Goodnight

11/11/2015

My dearest Sassy girl. When our paths crossed twelve years ago, we were two legitimate hot messes. (not in the fun, campy way) Simply put, our lives had taken a turn into the darkness. Back then, you were a mangy, starving, flea ravaged little thing, either lost or abandoned, and doing your best to survive on the streets. I’d just lost mom to the stupid breast cancer, and shortly after, my little sister Dena was murdered. She was 24, away at university, and finishing her Master's degree. She was also 6 months pregnant at the time.

To say I was falling apart would be putting it very mildly.

Three weeks after the news about Dena, you appeared, scurrying across my front yard. I ignored you for two whole days. Then, after really looking at you – such a pitiful little thing – I saw the sadness in your huge, pooling black eyes. I plopped you into a cardboard box and drove to the vet, where I learned you were four pounds (should’ve been eight), about three years old (according to your teeth, or something), reasonably healthy, and completely traumatized. I was instructed you’d need lots of patience, love, special handling and care.

I nodded. I knew what that felt like.

We became instant war buddies, and hunkered down together. Life, for me, continued to get grim. When I got the call my sister’s murderer had been arrested, you were cuddled at my side. You would remain there, through the months and years; sharing my grief through it all. And there would be plenty more. I lost Karen, my close friend who died suddenly from lupus. Then we lost my baby cousin Justin, (also 24) also senselessly murdered months before graduating with an engineering degree. Two murder trials, back to back.There was too much loss, death, trauma. I unraveled; came undone. Quit my job. Stopped taking phone calls. The grief, anger, and devastation turned me into a recluse. 

My only comfort was you.

And all the well, too, because I was done with people; I lost complete faith in humanity. There would be years of near insanity – debilitating depressions, breakdowns, relentless insomnia, overwhelming anxiety, PTSD - and all the other issues that tend to arise when one is losing one's mind. When I couldn’t get out of bed for days or weeks, you looked after me. You slept when I did, tucked into my side, your warm body and presence the only solace I could find. 

Then, there was the darkest time - Summer 2007. It was immediately after Justin's funeral. I could barely get out of bed for the basic necessities, let alone keep the weekly visits with my therapist. When she demanded I come in, I broke down in her office, doubting my ability to function. I'd been languishing in bed over a month. She explained the seriousness of a vegetative depression. There was talk of hospitalization. She gave me a non-negotiable assignment: Force yourself up every day by 10 am, and walk your dog. Bathing or brushing of teeth was optional; she knew those tasks could easily derail me. You must get out of bed, she warned. If you want to get better. Get up, go outside, and walk your dog.

 

I forced myself up. And we walked. I'd rattle your leash, and you'd pop into action. Some days we made it a few blocks, other days, the front porch. Commitment to this ritual got me moving again. Healing would be much farther down the road, but you helped me take those early, fragile first steps. You were the best part of my wasteland years.

You had your stuff to work through as well. After what seemed like ages of being terrified of door bells, loud noises, sudden movements, and people in general, you finally settled into the idea that you'd found a stable home (with lots of food) and humans to love you for the long haul. Slowly emerging from your timidness, you bloomed into a (hilarious) feisty little busy body, in everyone’s business and underfoot, romping, running through the house like a maniac, and stealing food from any unattended plate, bag of fast food, or trash can. 

I went to the kitchen for ketchup one time, and you scarfed down my two piece chicken and biscuit meal before I got back. Didn't take more than ten seconds, max. (you can take the pooch off the streets..) We learned not to sleep when you were on the prowl. You could be in a dead slumber and still wake up when the refrigerator door opened at 2 am. (Greedy. And nosy.) You humped one of your stuffed animal friends so hard, you threw out your back. None of them were safe. 

Your personality grew ten feet tall. We doted on you, became your willing lackeys. How could we resist?  We got wise to your ploys for attention, particularly when you wanted the moles (warts) scratched behind your floppy bunny ears. Your energy and spirit were infectious. You grew into the fun kind of hot mess.

More than that, we helped each other heal. Both of us had already seen the end of the world, so the ordinary days became deliciously special. We learned to cherish the gift of everyday life. 

Once I got up, and out in the world again, I realized it could still be quite unpredictable out there. Coming home to you was my reward for making it through another day. We settled into a quirky routine. Weeknights consisted of watching DVR'd episodes of Judge Judy to unwind; belly rubs, chats, gossip, snacks, dinner, you plopping on my laptop or journal as I tried to write (brat), then the two of us snuggling in for the night. Mornings I'd prepare for work, watching your furry body luxuriate on the bed or couch, as I set out your snacks and switched on Animal Planet to keep you company through the day. On weekends, there were few errands we didn't run together.

You became my best friend, confidant, side kick, running buddy, road dog, and cuddle bug; my security and serenity in this turbulent world. You assisted with my daily wardrobe dilemmas. You helped sniff out potential boyfriends, and gave me heads up on the jerks. You knew all my dreams, joys, disappointments, and secrets. We knew where all the bones and bodies were buried. We became a team. A dynamic duo at its best.

The greatest gift, though, is that we got to fully live out this bond and companionship. We've been blessed with the luxury of time. You weren’t snatched away from me, like the others. We hung in there long enough to experience happiness, for life to get sweet again. And we pulled out all the stops.

God knows we'd earned it.

We had the best adventures. We traveled together, road tripped, slept in five star hotels, and treated ourselves to room service. You experienced the finest doggie spas and hotels. We made an art out of sunbathing - in the backyard hammock, at the park, the beach. I'd pull out your pink glam carry bag, you'd hop in, and we were out.  Late night summer drives, sunroof open, your head hanging out the window, bumping 80's music or Kanye. Vintage shopping in Silver Lake, strolling the Venice boardwalk, eating out cafe style. I'd let you chow down on whatever your greedy heart desired. Every now and then, I'd think back on our trauma days, and smile.

We've come a long way, baby.

You helped me tolerate, then embrace, life and people again. You were my emotional support dog before it was even a thing. You are my forever reminder that there is still happiness to be found on the other side of darkness. You have shown me what grit and grace are all about.

I am writing this while watching you nap in front of the fireplace, no doubt exhausted from all the dancing and feasting at the pizza party we just had. And tomorrow I will somehow get up, and once again, drive to the vet – but this time, to say our good-byes. At fifteen, your little body has worn completely out, and I won't let you struggle anymore. You're too spunky for that.

We've shared the worst of times, we've shared the best. I wouldn't change a thing.

Sassy Poo. You are one of the great loves of my life. You are leaving me in a much better place than where you found me. Thank you. Thank you for saving me. You are the best girl, the sweetest girl; more than I could have ever dreamed of or wanted.

You were the best little girl in the world. You were perfect. And you were loved to the end.

             Long live Sassy Poo Sharif. ♥ ♥