July really fucking sucks/For my little pupperino, Chase

Sorry that it's not even a remotely G-rated blog post title.

It's no secret with me that summers--and Julys in particular--have historically sucked for me since Charley died.

I was just remarking at support group last Wednesday that, now with the death anniversary behind me for one more year, I could now have a good summer...at least until late August and we approach Anna's next birthday (which has been tough for me every year) at the beginning of September. I was rather happily looking forward to an unremarkable, pleasant end of the summer.

But God (or who/whatever) apparently has a sick, twisted sense of humor and irony.

I just got home from the conference four hours ago, and I'm exhausted and still on the fringes of Ati.van...so rather than try to write a coherent post right now, I'm just going to paste an email that I sent to my immediate circle of support group/friends/closest family early this morning.

From: Candice
Date: July 20, 2009 4:52:51 AM PDT
To:
Subject: Our dog, Chase

My apologies in advance before/as you read....This falls under that "horrible news" (for Anna, me, and my family) bucket.

Most of you knew I was out of town on vacation this weekend--I came to San Diego to attend a national widowhood conference and meet several widowed friends whom I'd met online through our blogs about widowhood--and I just got some horrible news tonight.

Our dog, Chase, was killed in an accident while I was gone, on Saturday evening. I just found out about it around 6 hours ago, on Sunday night. My parents had Anna and the dog for the weekend, and they'd gone camping with one of my sisters and her family. You may or may not know or remember about some of the extreme difficulties I've had--for lack of a better term--with the dog over the last year in particular, but also the last 3 weeks (if you don't know or remember the incidents, they're better left retold for another time). I don't know if it's really a long story or a short one, but he got out a window (or more precisely a screen) in my parents' motor home while they were away from the campsite, and he hung himself out the window on his leash. (I'd told my parents to keep him restrained because of prior problems with him out camping.) I had no *idea* anything like this would happen, despite that he's had some escalating separation issues in the last few weeks.

So...I just needed you all to know. I'm still at the hotel in San Diego and fly home tomorrow afternoon. My sister C gave me the news late this evening, after I'd finished with the conference and had just gotten back to the hotel after a wonderful dinner with a friend from high school. I'm here, and I've dealt with worse (obviously)...but that's about all I can gauge right now. I'm here...I'll be okay. My family is very upset, and I haven't talked to Anna yet.

But it's obviously more than "just" the death of a dog or pet. As maddening and challenging as he was at times, he was more than just "a dog" for Anna and me--he was Anna's constant playmate and my bed buddy, cuddlebug, and companion--but more precisely, he was the stand-in for Charley, the baby we didn't get to have together, and the sibling Anna never got to have...the third leg holding up the table for our little family. So if I'm a bit of a mess for a while (or knowing me and my delayed reactions...several months from now), please just bear with me as you have for 4 years already.

Anyway, like I said...I just wanted you all to know.

Love,
Candi/Candice


Sent from my iPhone

God has a really fucked-up sense of humor....The last 24 hours have been pretty fucking awful, although it's a massive relief to now be home. And now I'm off to pop an Ambien (I've gotten smart this time), go to bed, and avoid all this for a few more hours.

In loving memory of a sweet, cuddly, obnoxious, wonderful, and loving dog, playmate, and constant companion. We miss you horribly.

We love you, Chase, our pupperino....