Living overseas as I do, and frequently/always far from home even when I am stationed stateside, it's always in the back of my mind that the "last" time I see someone or something may be the last - I mean this is true of any of us, anywhere -
a ramble of a start; anyway -
I'm scheduled to head out on my first round of leave August 10, and today my mom called me to tell me that last night, there was an accident and Buffy died. She was in the backyard with my Dad and the other dogs, playing with everything and anything under the sun as she always does, and she got a stick lodged in her airway. My dad noticed she didn't seem to cough it up and was making a funny noise/having difficulty breathing, so he took her to the emergency vet. Unfortunately, the vet was unable to dislodge the stick before she stopped breathing, and CPR was not able to resuscitate her.
An awful, traumatic freak accident that is devastating to all of us and that I deeply, deeply wish my parents had not had to experience while I was thousands of miles away - and then break the news to me. "Dogs shouldn't be allowed to play with sticks" - yes, but she's a dog, and she lives and plays and loves outside and outside there is everything lurking that can cause both joy and pain. Buffy loved to eat things she wasn't supposed to, and trying to get it away from her often created higher risk as she'd zoom away or try to eat it faster. Happiness is risk. She was the happiest dog.
I don't think I will be able to process this immediately; Buffy couldn't come to China with me and hasn't lived with me in three years - she was as much their dog as mine, and they loved her just as much. I know she was so, so incandescently happy in Tennessee with the huge yard and the deer and rabbits and frisbees to chase, and as I prepare to bid for my next assignment, I've been so worried in the back of my mind that I might traumatize her by taking her on a plane, or that she might hate living in an apartment in a city wherever we go next
bittersweet, to contend with not having to worry about that, while also wishing I could go back to several hours ago when I hadn't yet heard "I have really bad news, and I can't do anything other than say it. Buffy died last night."
I posted about her a lot on here and she was the best dog ever, which I know is also true of everyone's dog because they are all good and pure.
Usually, before I leave home, I pat Buffy's head and say "I'll always come back!" I didn't say that this time. I was scared to jinx it, because Kyiv is...high threat, high risk.
She would have been 8 on August 29th.