I wrote Musings of the Future Mourner less than a month before my prediction came true. Rose died on September 12th, 2017. She hadn’t even reached her eighth birthday. It strange, I write my thoughts down and they come true. Ironic, and sickening from my perspective. The worst part is my thoughts. I can tell you exactly where she died. Her pose, and how she looked. I suppose the first time you have a dog die in your house is something you don’t forget.
Rose was my aunt’s dog, but she died in my house. Aunt Cindy went on a business trip. She left that day. I wasn’t even there. I had a stupid dermatologist appointment. (Even more ironic, his resident wanted to put me on a medicine that might cause lymphomas. What did Rose have? Lymphoma. Sometimes, I wonder if Fate is playing some sick, morbid joke on me.) That morning, she couldn’t walk. My aunt carried her in the house. We intended to take her to the vet to have her checked after my appointment. My dad had the day off, and we both believed that we would be taking her for her last appointment. Her final day. Only a month after her initial diagnosis. The vets believed she had months, not four weeks. We all knew better. Nothing could have extended her life.
Rose died in my living room. Vertical from my saltwater tank, beside one of two oversized dog beds for Angel and Ariel. (Angel was from the same litter as Rose. Ariel is my mom’s Great Dane.) She was in front of my Dachshund’s small bed. Rose looked small. Her ribcage showing and her mouth open like she was snoring. Her tongue vibrant red, like always, but it looked dry. Her eyes rolled back in her head. The worst part was her legs. She had her front legs crossed, like she always slept. Even several months later, I can see where she was, as if someone marked it with tape. I get uncomfortable when I walk over the spot, as I have to step there to change my Beardie’s lights. It has been a little over two months and I still jump over the area.
I remember asking my Dad “Is she really gone?” I knew she was, but maybe he had a magical spell that would wake her up, like Sleeping Beauty. Sleeping Rose. He shook his head and then I don’t know how, we started moving. I got the other dogs out. I stood by her corpse, looking down and talking to her. My dad was swearing. He yelled at me. I know he didn’t mean it. He was upset. I remember him calling the vet. He wanted to find a cremation service and to mark on Rose’s chart deceased. Dad is friends with our vet and hardly ever yells at him. I remember hearing “What the hell, Mitch? She’s dead. In my living room. What the hell, do you expect me to do?”
I remember hearing the whoosh of a garbage bag being opened. Rose was small, but she wouldn’t fit in anything else. I remember watching him put her into the bag. She was so stiff, so gone. So not Rose. He would later explain that he didn’t want the corpse hurt. I intended to go to the crematorium, but I chickened out with the excuse of needing to do school work. He would call me, and I helped him pick out her box. It had flowers on it.
Once I wrote down what would happen to Rose, it happened. Aunt Cindy is on the edge of a mental breakdown. Angel is Bipolar, one day she is fine, the next day she is miserable. Jazmine seems to have no clue. However, she has been quite spiteful, and needless to say Aunt Cin’s house smells.
Maybe I discounted my love for Rose. I swear I still hear her bark. I see her shadow when I walk the rooms of my house. Rose is haunting me, or maybe I am just crazy. Maybe both. I can’t forget her, and I doubt I will “get over it”. I will learn to deal.
Her death taught me one thing. I had been toying with this idea for a while, but now I know. I want to be a vet. I want to give other animals, like Rose, the ability to live longer, instead of just a month or two. Rose seemed to sacrifice herself, so that I can see what I am meant to do one day. I want to open an office of my own. I want to name it after Rose. One day, I will try to give other animals the chance that Rose never had.