@Yamatsu
Today I learned that my dog has anywhere from 6-12 months left before she dies.
She's a Chinese Sharpei, colored like a cooked pastry.
She has a genetic condition that is common among her breed, making it difficult to breathe, makes her lose weight, and is found somewhere in the kidneys, according to my parents.
We'll have to notify her breeder so that they can check the entire family for this condition, and hopefully alerting other owners of the breeder's puppies.
We'll have to feed her different food, something to hopefully put some weight back on her.
We'll have to give her many pills in hopes of delaying the inevitable.
Why?
Why, God damn it, why?!
Why something so impersonal?!
Why couldn't she have grown old and fat and happy with the rest of us?!
Why does Life have to hit in the worst way?!
I don't want to accept this! No one does! My other dog is old and fat, I'm already preparing myself for when 10 years of memories come flooding back on that day!
What even happens?! Can they perceive death the way we do? Do they perceive the passage of time, days and nights of love, lethargy, and hugs? What happens afterward?
I don't know. I don't think I ever will. But I do know that Summer can and will always be a part of my life.
Her, and Indigo, and Autumn, taken before her time when I was in fourth grade, and Moe and Emma, our cats that filled my parents with joy before my sister and I ever happened, and Tigger and Figaro, the two newest additions to our family.
Life sucks. Disease sucks. Death sucks. Just because you take it on the chin doesn't make it hurt any less. I just hope we can love her and make sure that she doesn't suffer.