Wednesday, May 11, 2011


Once upon a time I had a baby girl. Her name was Gizmo and she was beautiful and loving and as perfect as could be. I loved that dog so much. My family got her when I was maybe three or four so I pretty much grew up with her. She was some sort of mutt. She had a bit of sheltie in her, but that’s about all we knew. We got her from the humane society. She was light brown and cream and dark dark brown. She was super soft and had these amazingly soft “fox” ears. I loved her. I specifically remember coming home sometimes and not knowing where anyone was. Gizmo, who was always right there to greet you, would lead me right to whoever I asked her too. I’d say “Giz, where’s mom?” and she’d walk right to my mom. She’d even stop every once and a while and look back to make sure I was following her.
She died my freshman year in high school. It was February or March. I don’t know exactly how or why. I don’t remember much. She was yelping and whining and in pain. She wasn’t using her back legs. I wasn’t really there for any of that. What I remember most clearly is my dad calling me downstairs and telling me Giz had died and hugging me while his voice choked. I thought it was a joke at first. I was right at the bottom of the stairs. I cried a bit. But then I went blank for two weeks when it suddenly hit me. I cried a whole lot the night that it actually hit me.
February and March that year were rough. Gizmo died, my great aunt Maudy died and something else traumatic happened though I can’t seem to remember what. I managed to be a space-case for about a month until in World History one day I realized I had no idea how we’d gotten from what we had been talking about to what the topic that day was. I’d totally blocked a month from my mind.
While Giz’s death was really hard on me, it was also really hard on my brother. Now, you have to understand this. My brother is a troubled, angry kid. He’s just that kind of person. He’s not cocky, he’s not a chess nerd. He’s angry. Not a delinquent. Not a vampire-wannabe. But angry… And he used to be really depressed. For example. Today he came home all in a rage about something. He was slamming things in the garage and I could hear it before he stepped foot in the house. Then he slammed doors and stomped and pounded down the stairs to the basement then came back up growling and gritting his teeth and slammed things together… Later he disappeared into the basement for a while and all I could think was “Please, God. Don’t let me hear a gunshot. Don’t let him kill himself.” I was really worried. I still am. But when Gizmo died, it really hurt him. He was really sad. He had been there for the whining and pain she went through. He was really affected by it.
These are just some of my memories about her and her death. I bring them up because today I went through some things in my room. I found her collar (the newer one that she only wore for a few years, not the one she wore for most of her life). But this collar had her dog tags. We’d had a little pouch on the collar that her tags went in so she never jangled when she ran around. But I kinda just sat there and cried. I have wanted to take her tags and somehow turn them into a necklace or something in order to remember her. And when I saw them today, I decided to actually do it. I am currently wearing her dog tag (just the dog tag. Not her rabies tags). I really want to keep it on. But I’m afraid that if my brother sees it, he will be furious. After all, he loved her too.
Anyway. That’s some random “spillage” from me for today.

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