Losing Smoosh

     Saturday evening, my husband and I returned home to discover that our dogs, a beagle named Bella and a pug named Smoosh, had dug their way out under our fence. They were so determined that they actually dug around chicken wire. We searched everywhere for them. It was dark and late. My husband searched until 3:30am. He hung signs and walked until his legs literally hurt. I drove our neighborhood and two others following the creek behind our house until midnight. I finally convinced my husband to get some sleep around 4:30. We woke up to my phone ringing at 8am. A woman had found Bella in her yard howling loudly at 3:30am. She didn't have Smoosh.
     I had a bad feeling about it, because they NEVER go anywhere without each other. The one time Smoosh went on a car ride with daddy without Bella, Bella cried the entire time. When we go to the woman's house, a house so in the country she didn't even have an address, I saw a black animal lying under a tree. I knew it was Smoosh. I got out of the car, and called her, certain she would come running with that big smile on her face. But, she didn't come. She was gone. My husband believes she was hit by a car, but we'll never know for sure. The evil, Texas fire ants had already begun to do significant damage to her body.
     Bella was not hurt at all, at least not physically. She has a few scratches on her tummy that are probably from the chicken wire. But, she is heartbroken. I believe she was howling to try to get Smoosh help. She knew her sister was hurt, but she was unable to communicate it properly. And, since the woman didn’t want to be rude and wake us up in the middle of the night, we couldn’t do anything to save her. So, we wrapped her body in a towel the woman gave us, and took her home. We buried her in our yard in a shoebox from the pair of boots we were busy buying while she was escaping to her death.
     Losing Smoosh is absolutely devastating. She was our baby. We got her from a breeder when she was eight weeks old, four pounds, and didn’t know how to bark yet. She was beautiful. We fell in love with her when we first saw her. We wanted a fawn pug, and we wanted a female. The only fawn left with this breeder was a male. But, it didn’t matter; we fell for Smoosh as if she were ours all along.
     Part of the reason we purchased Smoosh, not a small fee for a purebred, was because I wanted a pug. I love pugs. They’re funny, happy, and loving dogs. The other reason we got Smoosh was to fill the void of my empty womb. We knew at that time that we were going to have difficulty conceiving and this way we would have a baby until we could have one we made. It may sound silly to some of you, but she really was my child. I taught her everything. She went through the same developmental stages a human baby goes through. And though I didn’t carry her and she wasn’t technically human, she was mine. Don’t get me wrong, I know I will love my own child more, if not differently, than Smoosh, but she is the only child I know now.
     I’m heartbroken. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m sad. I’m regretful. She did not deserve to die that way. She deserved to grow old, and die peacefully. Not like this. She was the happiest dog I have ever met. She loved life. She loved her sister. She loved us. And, we failed her. We failed to keep her safe. I hate that I cannot stop thinking about other sceneries that end with her sitting in my lap when I get home from work today. We had several people tell us they saw our dogs out, and one even checked their tags. But, no one called us. I suggested we lock them in, but we decided they would be fine roaming our fenced-in yard. If I would have stayed up longer, and driven further. If the woman who found Bella would have called us sooner. None of these things can change, but I can’t stop wishing they could.
     I feel cheated. I have been unable to get pregnant on my own, and now I lose the one child I had. I feel cursed. And, I feel like God hates me. He has many reasons to. I know these are not realistic feelings, but they feel normal right now. Grieving the loss of a pet feels no different than when I was grieving the death of my grandma last December, a loss I still have not been able to fully get over. I feel empty. I am empty. Smoosh was ours. One of the first things that was ours. And, now she’s gone forever. Nothing can replace her. But, I do think we will eventually get a new dog. Maybe another pug, because that’s the breed I prefer. But, no new dog will ever be Smoosh. I miss her more than I knew I could.