Bean, a dog 1994-2005

[Murphonian Logic]

Ahhh, Fuck. Fuuuuuck. When did it get so dusty in here? Where did all this fucking dust come from?

I just want you all to know that this post didn't even touch me a little bit. I could totally care. I didn't even know the dog, could care less.

It's just really, really dusty in here.

(sniffle)

OR maybe allergies. If anyone doubts dust, I'm going with allergies.
Ugh, so now I feel compelled to tell my abbreviated story; here's the readers' digest version.
Had a dog, golden retriever, for about 15 years. Loved that dog more than any person I've yet met.
Anyhoo, One xmas I'm staying at my parent's house and my Dad wakes me up at some unGodly hour and say's the dog's gone off to die and we have to deal with this shit before my 2 younger sisters get wind of it and hopefully they won't notice. Thus the Disney story of "The Dying Dog Cover-up So We Don't Ruin Christmas."
We find the dog at the corner of the property and clearly her time has come. She's "gone off to die". Wake up the Vet on x-mas day. Bring in the dog. Vet says "yeah, it's time." Dad asks if I'm cool. I'm totally cool. Vet whips out needle to mercy kill my best friend in the world.

Suddenly, I'm not so cool.

I wuss out and opt to go wait in the minivan. I didn't realize that I'd be able to see out the windshield, through he front door of the vet office, down the hall to see the the vet give the black shot of death and watch my buddy quiver a little and then lie still.
Keep in mind, I'm like 23 at this point. I oughta be able to handle this.

Dad loads the dog in the back of the van and gets in the drivers seat. He looks over at me. "You OK?"
(Keep in mind I'd pretty much rather voluntarilly stick my foot in a fucking bear trap as have my Dad see me cry). But I'm a fucking mess.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I say, looking out the passenger window and refusing to look at him.

He pauses for what seems like forever and drives us home.

We're on a schedule. We've got to get the fucking dog in the ground before my little sisters wake up and this event ruins christmas. So here we are, my older brother finally woke up and we're hiding behind the shed digging a grave on Christmas morning. Digging our asses off. "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas..."

A caddillac of a grave for the dog. Digging, digging, digging. Has to be the worst Christmas ever. Meanwhile, the dog next door is barking incessantly. Non-stop, unbelievably annoying. I'm totally depressed and making damn sure I don't cry in front of people. Dad comes out to check up on me and my brother.
""How's it going?"
"We think we're done. How's it look?" It's about 2.5' wide; about 4 or 5 ' long and clearly deep enough. Dad looks at it critally, the neighbor dog still incessantly barking.
He rubs his chin for a sec and decides, "Go down about another foot and we'll throw the fucking other dog in there, too."

Thank god for humour.

I am so sorry for your loss.