Biography

In high school, I had to write an autobiography. Without realizing it, I organized by life story not by years but by pets. To name a few, there was the Bufo Era, the Muppet-and-Snickers Era, the Buddy Era, followed too soon by the Tucker Era, and these were all parts of the great Buttercup Era.

Now the Miss Millie May Wigglesworth Era has come to an end, and the Ruby Applesauce Era has begun.

I've decided to write about this process for several reasons. Primarily, I'm simply compelled to express my feelings. I can't or won't talk about it with most people in my life, and I suspect most people think I'm okay, or will be soon. But I'm not, and I won't be. And if anyone is curious enough to bother reading this, I want them to know it. Moreover, I can't find any way to ease this heartache, so I'm trying anything I can think of.

I see grief coming in two stages. The first comes quickly, like a goddamn Mack truck, beginning the moment you get the news. This is the stage when you feel, for at least 45 our of every 60 minutes, as though you are being crushed. You physically crave and expect to find that person you have lost. Somehow, eventually, you come out of this stage and become "okay" again and, eventually, even genuinely happy. But this is when the second stage of grief begins, and it lasts for the rest of your life. In this stage you are aware, although thankfully not all the time, that your memories of that person are slowly slipping away. You are gradually losing the only link yo have to your loved one. My second motivation for this blog is to preserve my memories of Millie, although I think it will be quite a while before I can even think, much less write, about these memories.

The relationship between a human and a pet is unique. It is unlike any relationship we have with our fellow humans, as far as I can tell. I was with Millie the vast majority of the time for the last nine years. She followed me from room to room when I was home. She slept snuggled up close to me for over 3,000 nights. She was a perpetual baby who needed me and loved me more than anyone in the world. There is not a single human with whom I could tolerate this closeness, but I would have it no other way with Millie. Because the human-pet relationship is so unique, the process of grieving a pet is unique too. It's a process that is poorly understood in our culture. In a million little ways, people in your life will invalidate your grief, expecting you to get over it and move on. If anyone who has lost a pet reads this and finds their feelings validated, I hope it helps.