Dec 14, 2016

ONE MONTH

It's been one month today.  I swear, it feels more like a thousand years, but today I am going to think happy funny thoughts about my Little.

(I'm still in the well, but now I seem to be sitting upright at the bottom of it rather than lying face down in the complete darkness.  Eventually, I will be able to kneel...then stand...then start climbing one step at a time out of it and back up onto the surface of things. But for now I am in familiar territory and am breathing and not completely broken, so methinks a few more days down here will be OK.)

Today I want to think about his funny little overbite and how, when he really wanted to get you rolling on the floor, he'd get his upper lip stuck and stick his front teeth out like Jerry Lewis.  And the minute I'd catch sight of this, I would howl and belly laugh and completely forget about whatever it was that he had just done that should have made me cross with him, but gave me reason to scoop him up and laugh and laugh at his funny little bunny teeth.

Or the time that I heard something coming from the vacinity of his little bed, and I caught him chewing a stick of gum....casually...like he might have had something for lunch that was full of garlic or onion and he wanted minty fresh breath for his afternoon nap.

I could also think about his special "friend" Stumpy the Moose, and how I had to teach him that "private time" with Stumpy was probably best had in actual private and not in the middle of the living room floor when company was visiting. 

(As God is my witness...All I had to say was "Stewey, please do that in private" and he would drag that poor moose into the bedroom.  One evening, Aunt Chrissy and I grew concerned when he disappeared with Stumpy for what seemed like a very long time.  I will spare you the inappropriate details, but suffice it to say that it involved a $250 bill at the emergency vet for what I believe is referred to as a "happy ending" in less than reputable establishments worldwide.)

This funny little furry creature was my entire life for eleven years, four months, and eight days and I honestly don't think I would trade one single moment of that for anything...not even to erase the pain I feel now.  I got to be a Mommie and discovered things about myself that I never would have imagined to be true...like my capacity to love something that deeply or to accept love in return.

For such a little thing, he sure left a big hole in my silly world, but I'm slowly filling up that hole with happy memories.  Thanks for indulging me.  I know that if he were here he'd be completely exasperated with his Mo-ther for the dramatics, but some things, I suppose, must never change.

34 comments:

  1. what a fabulous painting. It says it all. HUGS

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beautiful. Thank you for sharing your feelings with your internet family. Hugs!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yes it makes all the difference- Blessings, Baa

    ReplyDelete
  4. I agree, a painting that tells it all. Thank you for this inspiring post...today is four years since I lost my husband, and instead of 100% sadness, I will try to focus on funny little memories of the guy I loved since the 3rd grade. Well, in 3rd through 10th grade, I actually ignored him, but I like to think I unconsciously liked him a lot...

    ReplyDelete
  5. Still praying for you both. I understand.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Almost a eulogy to dear Stewey. Lovely Coni.
    Ruth in Oxnard CA

    ReplyDelete
  7. Aww! those are fun stories about Stewey!

    ReplyDelete
  8. RIP, little Stewey. You were well loved and loved Mommie back. We'll take care of her.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Even in your grief, you are slowly healing, Coni. Being able to remember special moments that made you laugh or smile is therapeutic and will help make the hole in your world just a little bit smaller. I continue to keep you in my thoughts and prayers. Sending virtual hugs,
    Karen in Maryland

    ReplyDelete
  10. I loved reading this; I could just picture that vet's face too! LOL... I know it's hard... just remember everyone's grief runs differently towards acceptance and happiness. You will get there. :) It never gets easy to let a furbaby go. Just take some knowledge that he's waiting over the rainbow bridge for his favorite Spinster.

    I also loved the painting...did you ever hear that Roy Orbison song "The Comedians"? The line "drinking a toast to absent friends" is in there. <3 <3

    Hugs and Love,
    Jen

    ReplyDelete
  11. He was a character alright. :)

    {{{Coni}}}

    ReplyDelete
  12. All of us who have had a pet understand what you are going through. It hurts so much that we feel we will never be the same again, and maybe we're not. My husband has totally refused to let me have a cat, even though I long for one. But he knows the despair I feel when a 'babe' leaves me.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Indulge yourself in memories as many times as you need to. I certainly have, I remember the times that my horse would just lay his head in my arms, for the gentle nickers and the head bumps that literally put me across the stall cause they were so strong. How he loved when I brushed his face and the times he would beg me for more hay and sigh when he got "just another flake". The memories keep us alive and help us when the pain of missing them is so overwhelming. My Joey has been gone since May and I still listen for his soft whinny when I come in the barn. And I go out to his resting place and talk to him every day.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Keep remembering and laughing and crying. Stewey lives inside your heart....and will always be part of you. Perfect love.
    xxx

    ReplyDelete
  15. Stewey was such a special creature and the bond you shared
    is exemplified in the understanding exchanges of humor and
    sensitivity you experienced. Your appreciation of his place in your life will grow deeper as it brings you healing insights.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Stewey would be so proud of you and the way you've coped this past month. I think you're extremely brave because it's so very hard losing a beloved pet.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Remembering fond and funny memories is such a good way to heal. Love the painting, too...

    ReplyDelete
  18. Such fun memories! I'll always say this about Emma, but sometimes she's the only thing that can make me laugh when sometimes I feel like nothing will.

    Take care, Coni!!

    ReplyDelete
  19. To Absent Friends......(glass up)
    What great memories of Stewey.
    I do hope you feel better by the weekend.
    Take care.
    Marilyn

    ReplyDelete
  20. They are always with us in our hearts and beautiful memories. Sending feel good wishes your way.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Nice that you are able to reflect on your good memories with him. Continued hugs and prayers going your way.

    ReplyDelete
  22. One month! How can it be?! I have been so worried about you so many times, Coni, and would have sent my cousin from Indie over to check on you if I knew where you were...and of course there's that old crazy stalker thing...but anyhow...Stewey was your world and of course you can't get over 11 years, 4 months, and 8 days of loving a child in a month...be gentle and kind to yourself...and know that your friends are here to indulge you always.
    I'm still hoping you may want to take me up on my offer...my treat.
    Hugs

    ReplyDelete
  23. Baby steps. Take as many as you need. Thanks for sharing those funny memories.

    ReplyDelete
  24. I haven't been to my blog for a while, and while on a very boring 3rd shift I decided to read some of my old favorite blogs. Lo and behold I see yours. And it brings me back to a time when my own babies had to leave me.

    Misty went first. She was a softy, pure white, Jack Russell. She had bone cancer also. She first got it in her left rear leg. Although I felt like a monster for doing it, I had that leg amputated and it gave me another year and a half with my girly girl. I cried so much after losing her. I was devastated. PeeWee didn't understand where she went. He was my first Jack Russell. They grew up together and had 2 litters of pups together. When she left and then I had to go back to work he did not understand why he was left alone. He tore my house up....bad. And I couldn't be mad at him. He didn't understand. I couldn't make him understand why he was all of a sudden alone.

    And then my human best friend, at the age of 46, had a massive heart attack and he left me. Jeff left behind Leo, who was Misty and Pee's son. Jeff left Leo to me. So I did have a piece of Jeff left. And got a piece of Misty back as well. A couple of years later I had to let Pee go. Then a couple years after that it was Leo's turn. I lost 3 babies that I loved so much and my bestest friend in the whole wide world....all in the span of 5 years.

    I feel your pain. You don't want to live without him. All you can do is put one foot in front of the other, day after day. Reading about Stewey took me back in time and brought tears to my eyes. Our love for our babies is immeasurable. It took me a while to want babies again. This time I went from canine to feline. Now I have a little girl named Nubby who doesn't have a tail and all I can say is that she is the light of my life and makes me laugh. In due time you will feel better. You won't forget but you will be able to get up in the morning without that heavy feeling in your heart, and be able to smile because he loved you as much as you loved him. Huge hugs.

    ReplyDelete
  25. Such a beautiful posting as I too have experienced the love & loss and also wouldn't trade it for any other part in my life...you had a wonderful life and will so cherish all the memories that will bring you more joy as time passes. Blessings....

    ReplyDelete
  26. Oh Coni, you made me chuckle. Remembering those memories will help you heal. Take each day as it comes and remember it is okay to move forward. Stewey will always be a part of your life and he continues to watch over you. Thinking of you!

    ReplyDelete
  27. Take as much time as you need, and remember as many of those funny moments as you can, for that's what will get you through it.

    ReplyDelete
  28. Please, just remember the fun and funny moments. Oh, and all the conversations you had. That is what got me through. I still talk to Dukie in quiet moments. His little tiny being was so full of love and compassion... He was and is my hero. Master Stewey is yours.

    ReplyDelete
  29. Hurrah! Just keep on keepin' on,Coni!

    ReplyDelete
  30. I'm sorry but even after reading all of the sweet heartfelt comments from others all I could think of was how lucky Stewey was that he didn't go blind.

    ReplyDelete
  31. What wonderful memories! I am glad he learned the meaning of privacy too!

    ReplyDelete