I still remember the day we met. Like most six year olds, I begged my mom for a dog, promising to take good care of her no matter what. She herself was partial to getting a Blenheim; I staunchly insisted on a chihuahua instead. My babysitter at the time knew a few things about the breed, having owned two herself.
Chloe was a $100 purchase from a random couple posting to Craigslist. She was so tiny in my arms on the ride home. We celebrated her first birthday a few months later with a bone-shaped cake for dogs topped with pink frosting. She kept trying to wriggle out of her hat before we snapped the picture.
My mom and I have all of those little moments from her youth in a scrapbook sitting in a spare room. Now, that's all I'll have left of her. Mom called me last night to tell me she made the decision to put her to sleep. It makes sense. Chloe had been struggling with respiratory issues on and off for three years now. This would have been her fourth time going to the emergency vet for a collapsed trachea to receive another grueling round of sedatives, oxygen, and stress away from home.
I just wish I could have been there to say goodbye. Except I couldn't because I'm a college freshman who was taking a psych midterm and going to EMT school the day of. It's not like I could have driven home, either. Freshman aren't allowed to park their cars on my campus.
I feel so useless and guilt ridden right now. Should I have pet her more beforehand? Taken her on more walks? Taken more pictures?
A year and a half ago, I lost my cat Daisy Gray on Halloween. Now, just when I got used to having only Chloe and my other cat Stewart at home, I lose her too. On May the Fourth. It feels like the universe loves to make me suffer on days I used to love.
Now I'm doomscrolling trying to numb the feeling. If only I had more time with her for at least one more walk around my neighborhood lake. The house is going to feel so much emptier during the summer.
Just wanted to vent.