Sassy

Me and my dog

I had a dog some years ago, her name was Sassy (totally gay, but my sister named her!). She lived for about 12 or 13 years, I’m starting to forget the exact number, but I do remember her birthday (we assumed it) was in April. She was of a breed called sharpey, though I’m not sure how to spell it correctly, and she was kind of a mean bitch, an ill-tempered female dog. 

We got her when she was just about 2 weeks old, still almost blind. My uncle brought her to our house in his pick-up; he left her in the back for the entire ride. She was shivering and wet, she had peed on herself, and she couldn’t even stand. She would finally walk about 1 week later, I think she always regretted learning.

When it was time to walk, she’d hide under any bed, and behind sofas. It was a pain in the ass to try to get her out of the house. Eventually the job became mine, and it was, well, annoying as shit honestly. I’d take her out and go for about 20 or so blocks, letting her piss and poop with leisure. I rarely ever picked up the shit, because no one else did. Yeah, I am something of an ass about certain stuff. 

I was actually one of the only people of the family she never bit, well, me and mom. My mom always enjoys telling the story of their little morning ritual. Sassy slept in my parents’ room, in a 2 seat wooden chair with a little mattress and a blanket. My mom usually sleeps late, and this little critter would never leave her spot until my mom got up. If the old lady got a foot from under the comforter, she would drop a paw. If she pulled it back in, so would she. She always laughs when she tells that story.

Bathing her was a real hassle; my mom would always need our help, because the little angry bugger had an almost unnatural fear of water. She would try to bite anyone close when the water started; it got worst after she got hurt by another dog.

We almost lost her for the first time one weekend when she got attacked by a Rottweiler. My mom and I were walking her in a Saturday, when we walked close to this house where they were cleaning some cars. From that house, I still pass it and anger swells in me, a Rottweiler ran right towards us and grabbed hold of her neck. After breaking a walking stick on its head, we managed to free her. Her skin was shredded and hung off her; she was almost dragging it, walking desperately towards home ahead of a trail of blood. Her whimpers, I still remember them. 

Eventually she got cancer, I never really paid attention to the doctor’s diagnostic, and I just remember thinking it sucked. I do remember he said it wouldn’t be more than a couple of months. He also said it would probably be necessary to put her to sleep, as the cancer would be slow and an operation was more of a torture after she had barely recovered from her attack a few years before.

Her last week was heartbreaking for all of us. She couldn’t sleep, and walked aimlessly around the house. It got so bad she couldn’t even go up the stairs. Her throat just made a sagging growl, all while she walked and walked, unable to even lay down because of her pain. I remember we didn’t sleep well for those last 3 or 4 days, my mom never slept. 

After she was put to sleep, we really couldn’t talk about it. We were all together with her for that moment, my mom and sister were crying, and my dad, and I had only seen him that sad once or twice in my life. I asked to carry her into a grave we had dug in our backyard. 

Sometimes I just sit in the patio and I look at the place where she’s buried, with her favorite toys and a couple of her favorite blankets. It always hurts to loose someone close to you. See, my dog had a lot of shit in her short life, but her worst problem was that I think she always thought she was human. I guess she imprinted us or identified with us, since she never had much contact with other dogs and we got her so little. I imagine that’s why she had a hard time with temper; she always had conflicts with her nature and our nurturing. 

Of course there’s a lot more I could say about her, but I think that’s all I can tonight. By now losing someone should be easier for me, but it’s only getting harder and harder. Maybe that’s why it’s so difficult to care; it’s just fear, because you can’t lose what you don’t have or someone you don’t really know.