As I write this now, I sit next to my beloved dog, a white goldendoodle who has been my constant companion and greatest treasure. Her name is Ginger. She has been with me for ten years, ever since I was 12 years old. She has played with me, laughed with me, cried with me, mourned with me, and learned and grown with me.
I cannot even begin to imagine a life without her. The very thought is so horrible, and so empty, that I can't even begin to comprehend it. But it's a life that I will one day have to face.
Three days ago, I learned that Ginger was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She has approximately one to three months left, before there is nothing anyone can do for her.
Ginger is still her happy self as always. Today, she came home from the animal hospital, where they removed her spleen and saved her life for a while longer at least. But the cancer in her body cannot be removed. One day it will take her from me, and I am dreading the day that happens.
I've started to reflect on my life with Ginger. The birthdays. The toys. The vacations. The happy memories of walks, runs, catch, tug-of-war, and so many other fond milestones. I first held Ginger when she was but two weeks old, and I've grown up with her almost ever since then.
And even now I know my time with Ginger isn't over. There are future memories I will have with her even now, as my time with her draws to a close. But even now I am thankful for every single second I still have with her. I have come to appreciate every second I have with Ginger more than ever before.
There are so many things I will inevitably go over with a magnifying lens. What could I have done? When could I have done it? Was there anything I could've done to help Ginger?
None of these questions have satisfactory answers for me. I know they don't, yet I can already feel myself analyzing them, scrutinizing these memories in excruciating detail. Maybe that's a comment on the human mind - the tendency to find patterns in the past and attempt to learn from our mistakes and misfortunes. Perhaps it's an inate tendency that has enabled humans to adapt to tough situations and survive for so long.
It all makes sense to me when viewed in the abstract, but it is scant consolation when viewed through the lens of someone living through a tough situation themselves.
I love Ginger more than life itself. She is my everything. She is worth the world and more to me, and I would give anything to protect her and have her by my side for the rest of my life. These past few days - in which her life and her future remained very much in question - have been emotionally exhausting; a mixture of confusion, grief, anger, sadness, relief, and so many other emotions that I can't even put into words.
But above all, these past few days have given me a perspective on life that I haven't had before. Nothing lives on forever; even the stars burn out. Ginger's day will come, and my day will come soon. Nobody knows when or how, but it will come. And I have a newfound appreciation for every day, every hour, and every minute I spend with my beloved dog.
Every moment I have with Ginger is a gift, and I will take none of it for granted. In the time we have left together, I will give Ginger the same love, affection, attention, and care that she has always shown me.
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My beloved Ginger passed away peacefully at her home on February 25, 2023, at 11:05 AM. She was 10 years old
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