I have a dog who’s dying. Yep, you know where this one is going so feel free to bail out now because it’s going to get ugly. Peaches – said dog – has been dying for about two months – actually to be totally honest, since birth, because she came with four heart defects, and in a nutshell – her dying has been the single most horrific thing I’ve ever been through. Granted – I’m a middle class jewish white chick so I haven’t really been through all that much – a really bad stint or two with braces – an unfortunate weight gain during college – bad boyfriends – some super bad haircuts – a boss from hell – the death of my first dog – menopause – I mean, it’s real shit but it’s not deep shit. That said – this is the worst. The heart wrenching gut ripping tear spilling kind of shit I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from because the second her face enters my mind I lose it. I call Peaches a dog because you people make me call her that so I don’t get locked up for being the crazy dog lady – but she is not. She is human to me. She is my human. She is my person. She is moody, at times bitchy, she is finicky about her food, she doesn’t always like to be hugged but she’ll pretty much hump anything. Yes, I just described myself as well but we’re talking about Peaches aka The Peach. This dog, my first big dog, courtesy of a Saint named Brian Unger – is leaving me – and she’s doing it slowly. It’s a death march I’d like to have one day. For the most part she’s super spry, races around the house, and after a terrible scare – seems to have her heart crap under control. Plus she’s supermodel thin. And that’s the problem – she just won’t eat. Clearly not my actual child because nothing will ever stop me from eating. She’s lost 30 pounds in just a short bit of time which, let’s be honest, really pisses me off because I’ve been chasing the same ten pounds for years. But it’s very clear we’re at the end of the road for Peaches and I have to tell you – I’m just so very sad. I would kinda sorta really like her to live forever. But she can’t. I really hope she had a nice time here. I so wish I could talk to her and see if I did okay. I hope she knows how much I loved the fact that she was lazier than me. I hope she knows how much I love her. Loved her. Will always love her. I would love for her to tell me that she doesn’t mind going to sleep forever. But that’s just my guilt as a human kicking in. Dogs probably don’t feel the same way about dying. I was asking my friends what they thought was the lesson I was supposed to learn from Peaches and I think I’ve finally figured it out. As an alcoholic I tend to have a really hard time leaving things undone. It is a little something annoying that came with my sobriety. Something I didn’t have before. Anything unfinished feels like a massive weight on my shoulders and at times can become pretty emotionally crippling. It makes for a pretty good employee but not so much a person. I can get a little nutty. That said – Peaches perfectly normal end of life with heart failure activities have been going on for two months now. Every day I purchase another ticket on what has become a terrible roller coaster ride but I can’t get off because Peaches is still ready to roll. And so I keep strapping in. Peaches has taught me to just sit back and let things happen in their own time – if even that thing is a horrible piece of shit fuck you there is no god thing. Peaches is definitely riding this one out to the end and so shall I. I just wanted to take a moment to thank her now – while she’s alive – and say – I really love you Peaches and you definitely shook my tree.