Blue, my wolf-husky companion, and the only person who's made me happy in my life, with whom I've spent the best moments of my life, who kept me going during my 9-year suicidal depression, came down with congestive heart failure yesterday afternoon. Mom came home to her new place after we'd spent a few hours cleaning out the old house to find Blue seizing on the floor. She'd soiled herself, which she would /never/ do under normal circumstances. Mom literally flung the first few boxes she saw out of the truck and carried Blue downstairs with the help of a neighbor and rushed her to the vet. She called me on the way over so I heard most of the details. The vet was closed and she was going to try the other vet across town but made the better decision of knocking anyway on this vet's door. He was still there and they started giving emergency treatment to Blue.
Mom hung up at about that point and said she would come get me in a while if Blue stabilized. I started sobbing and did so for the next hour or so. Ross was home and he comforted me as best he could, but there's really no comfort for something like this. When I got to the vet's and talked to him, he said that Blue had been dead, basically, when she'd gotten there. He brought her back from the dead and if Mom had been 2 minutes later he wouldn't have been able to.
I spent some time with her, as much as I could. She was happy to see us. She's still at the vet's. She still has a 10-15% chance of living, though she was doing much better this morning.
Lacking any other way to deal with this grief that has landed in my lap, I got suitably drunk last night, and was suitably hungover for all of today.
For those of you who don't know how deeply I feel for my canine companion of 12 years, let me put it in a sentence: if she dies, so do I.
Of course I realize that she's a dog, and that she doesn't live as long as humans do. Of course I fucking realize that. I've only lived in the presence of dogs/wolves since before birth--I've only been raised by a woman who's spent at least the past 30 years raising litters of dogs, who's told me the stories of how she cried when Amaruq was brutally murdered. Of course I fucking know.
It doesn't make it any easier to deal with, and no--I'm not being fucking melodramatic. If Blue dies, so do I. I die inside. My physical body will keep going through inertia. I will be a husk.
Think what you want. It may not be the end of anyone else's world but it's the end of mine. Blue is my world. I love her more than I love life itself. She has always been there for me and she has always fucking accepted me. She has never turned away from me because I'm me. She has never turned away from me because I was being a real bitch. She has always known me to be her mistress, her junior pack leader, and she has always, always loved me. And I have always loved her, from the moment she came into my life. She has kept my sanity. She has kept my heart safe. She has made sure that I can still love.
Without her, life is meaningless.
