The Moon

There are differences between Lola and Temple.  Temple's ears are a little thicker than Lola's were.  Her tail is, too.  Her fur is silkier and her eyes a little closer together than Lola's.  When she first came, I noticed every little difference but now, Temple is starting to feel 'normal'.  I am afraid that Lola is going farther away, it's like I'm always losing her more.  I think of when Lola and I drove back from Mexico together.  I hear people call their dogs their best friend or their companion or a variety of other things.  I don't know what I would call Lola.  I usually just called her the love of my life, kind of as a joke but actually en serio.  Sometimes I have this mental vision when I walk Temple, it's strange and I don't know where it comes from. We are walking through some sort of hellscape and she is with me, beside me and we are on a mission to destroy, enveloped in scorched-earth grief.  She's like my post apocalyptic companion. 

 

"You a toilet." Eduardo's sister stated as we walked up the hill during dismissal.
"You're a bathtub."  I answered.  

She giggled furiously.
"You a sink."  she responded.

"You're a toilet paper roll."

She shrieked.

It's a little thing we do, all the way up the hill.  She insists on holding my hand.  

"It's weird.  I'll think I'm doing okay and suddenly something will trigger me and I feel awful.  Once it was the moon.  THE MOON.  I didn't think that would be a trigger, but I was looking at it when I found out he died."
I wanted so badly to agree with my co-worker's sentiment.  It described my experience with Lola's death so precisely.  I will realize I am actually not feeling bad and then a dagger-like memory comes to me.  I can't walk down the hill at work in the afternoon without thinking of getting that phone call.  The hill is a trigger, or a book about a cloud, it can be things that are so random.  But I didn't say anything.  No one wants you to compare your dog's death to the death of a family member.  

"You a chicken nugget."

"You're a chicken thigh."

"You a bush."

"You're a tree."

She lets out crystalline giggles, all the way up the hill.  

I had to administer a standardized test to a particularly difficult kid this week.  He is not one of my students.  Three mornings in a row, sitting in my trailer with this kid whining and complaining, fake crying, being rude.  Dismissing me when I came to get him for testing, telling me he'd be ready in thirty more minutes.  Like I was his fucking servant.  Wasting my time.  I received two Intensive English kids that I am trying to prepare for but instead, my schedule was being dictated by a fucking brat.  Telling me he would hurry and finish his test so that he wouldn't have to hear my voice anymore when I wasn't even talking.  All I could think was yes, please hurry and get the fuck out of my face.  I understand this kid has a documented condition, but it didn't stop me from thinking some pretty dark thoughts.  

"You a house."
"You're a garage."
"You a apartment."
"You're a trailer."

More giggles.  

I actually start to think I might be the most hilarious person ever.  

An unpleasant neighbor of mine got sentenced to ten years in prison.  It was a nice little pick me up. 

I walked down the hall at the beginning of dismissal, collecting my walkers.  Eduardo's sister shot out of her classroom .
"You a chicken wing pig."  she announced, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the hall.  

Days of the Dead

I had one of those dreams that is happening right until you wake yourself up.  I was opening the gate to take Temple on a walk and suddenly, Lola was right behind us.  But, she was a ghost and she couldn't come.  She couldn't come on the walk.  But she wanted to.  

The day I picked up her ashes was bizarre.  I arrived at the pet crematory, a place that I don't even like to glance at when I drive past, even on a good day.  I told them my name.  They had texted me earlier, and asked if I wanted Lola cremated with her furry purple blanket.  Originally I said yes, then asked them if it was possible to save it for us.   

The lady at the desk looked at me and asked me exuberantly how the first week of school was.  I glanced down at my work t-shirt, realizing how she knew I was a teacher.
"Awful."  I responded.
She snorted at me with disapproval.  
"My dog died."  I responded, staring at her right in the face and starting to cry.  Hence my presence here, idiot.  

She sprinted around the desk and forcibly started hugging me.  I was actively pulling away and she actively decided that she was going to hug me.  It would have been funny if it wasn't so ridiculous.  I guess it is funny because it's ridiculous.  

"So, were they able to save the blanket?"  I asked, gripping the desk in an attempt to remove myself from her fucking rape hug.  She removed herself quickly from my body and ran back around the desk.

"I don't have any record of this."  she said coolly.

Suddenly, someone was all business.  

"Look, I can show you the text, I just wanted to know....."  I responded.  

Another lady burst out from the back and handed me the blanket in a plastic bag with Lola's name on it.  And, she handed me the box of Lola's ashes.  Apparently, I bought a rosewood box.  I could feel her ashes slide around inside while I carried it.  It was unsettling.  Is unsettling.   

It's been almost three months.