Some of you may know from Facebook that Tuesday night, my mama and daddy decided to put our dog, Viki, to sleep. She was 15 years old, had tumor masses on her bladder and spleen, and she was losing her sight and hearing. It was a difficult decision for my parents to make, but she was in such bad condition that she could hardly even move and she would only lay on the floor and whimper. It's easy for me to distance myself from the pain she was in because I didn't see her much, just on the weekends. I'm sad for the loss of our faithful friend and family member, but I'm also sad that my parents are so hurt and sad too. I had to leave last night when they started talking about her and tears began welling up in my mom's eyes. I could tell that my daddy was trying his hardest not cry too. I hope that I didn't come off as insensitive by leaving so quickly. But the one thing that I cannot handle more than losing someone in the family is seeing my parents cry. My parents are liek superheroes to me. When my daddy rear-ended another car, my mama was livid (money and insurance reasons--no one was injured, by the way), and I let out a quick laugh, but on the inside, I was sad. My daddy, my superman, is human and flawed. I remember the day mama told me that Viki had tumors. She could hardly speak she was so choked up. I felt the tears coming as soon as I saw her red eyes. It made me sad to know that Viki was sick, but even worse to think about how sad it would make my parents.
Dear Viki,
You were always a great companion, even when I didn't think you liked me or when you stared at me and it kinda creeped me out. You made Mama and Daddy immeasureably happy, usually when us kids made them angry. You were a great listener, mostly because you never interrupted or told me something I didn't want to hear or talked about yourself. In fact, you'd really just roll over and let me rub your belly when I was venting about my teenaged, adolescent woes. It was nice. You were definitely a great source of entertainment! Sometimes it felt wrong to be so amused by you and your lack of sense... not that I really have room to talk. I'm pretty sure I've run into that wall just as many, if not more, times as you did. The house will feel empty and quiet without you, and you can never be replaced. But to know that you are now running around without pain gives me comfort. I just hope that that will give me enough comfort and strength to take care of mama and daddy the way you did. I love you, fuzzy one!
