How We Process

I'm sitting at the computer. Doug is driving away with the dog.

We talked to our vet about arrangements and what to do for him, for us, for the kids -- whether or not Tufts Veterinary School would want him, and whether we should just send him on a group cremation, group burial, or private cremation. We're spending the little extra money on private, and we'll bring him home and find an appropriate place for him. As a family.

The window replacement guys are upstairs over my head and my head is exploding right now from the noise of life going on, life continuing, other people oblivious to the fact I want my brain wrapped in mothballs and muffled and protected from sound and reality. I really cannot fathom that this has happened, and that he's gone for real.

I've gone over this a million times in my head. Would things have been different if I were home. I go and do the one totally selfless act I can do, and what -- this I how I'm repaid. Crap.

In my heart of hearts, I always knew there was clear potential for something like this happening -- I just never expected it would be Kinger. I always believed Jack would meet his doom at the chrome bumper and grill, but not Kinger.

Doug and I sat on the couch last night rationalizing. The "He's in a better place" kind of thing, but that sucks because this place was damn fine and we were pretty good to him.

But we could have been better, if you know what I mean.

I kept thinking about how yesterday afternoon I was too busy for him and for Jack. I am never too busy for them. Why yesterday? Just to compound my grief and make me sadder. Every day -- I come home, get loved and give love. I sit on the couch and they both jump up to glom on me and worship me.

And I didn't do that at all yesterday.

I keep going over the "It could have been worse, it could have been Jessica running out to stop him." I always try and play the "It could have been worse" game but really, that's the only thing I can come up with.

The thing that kind of upsets me is Geoff thinks that it's great that we still have Jack. He has expressed little or no concern or upset for Kinger's absence. I'm not sure if that's normal, or if that's just the way he is.

We all process things differently.

We were sitting on the couch last night and Geoff was lavishing Jack with love and affection and he turns to me and says "Mom, why are you so sad, we have Jackie! Jack is a great dog!" And I asked him if he even realized the finality of Kinger's death... and he said "well, yeah. But we have Jack and that's great!"

How he processes things is a lot different than the rest of us, I think. I warned the school that this happened, because we never know with Geoff when it just might... dawn on Marble Head.

I don't know.

Our lives go on. Right? I just talked to MB at the office, and we had a short, good laugh about a few things. Her dog survived getting hit by a car, so she knows how we feel in a way, moreso than a lot of other people.

And yes, I do have things in perspective before I get a snarky comment about the Hurricane Devastation or Some Kid Has Cancer Your Life Could Be Worse kind of thing. I know there are worse things, which is why I can sit here and think out through my fingertips. I know we were responsible for Kinger, and he was off the leash and shit happens when Dogs and Cars meet. I know all these things. I can still have my grief. So withold your comments to that point if you would.

As Jackson Browne sang "Don't confront me with my failures. I have not forgotten them."