Remembering Simba
Well, it’s Friday, and I’m reporting to you live from the Sooner state. I’ve been trying to shake some serious lethargy since Monday, but it just isn’t happening. Here are a few thoughts from the last bastion of people who still wear overalls to the supermarket.
It seems trivial to be sad about the loss of a dog, but I can’t seem to shake it. After 10 days of decreased mobility, she was almost entirely paralyzed Wednesday and didn’t have enough strength in her legs to stand on her own. She wasn’t in any pain and was still lucid, but just couldn’t stand or walk on her own. My parents were out of town, so my brother, Amy and I had to take her down to the vet, and ultimately made the decision to euthanize her.
She was my dog when I picked her out of a cardboard box in front of Target when I was twelve, but she quickly became a family mainstay. She slept on top of tables in the backyard, slept on a tempur-pedic remnant in my brother’s room inside. We didn't spent much time with obedience training, but she was a patient giant with the little cousins. On the way home from the vet, my brother kept saying "it's like she wasn't a dog; she was a little person." I don't think he meant it in the way people anthropomorphize the dog they carry in their handbag. She just didn't seem to know she was a dog. She preferred to loaf around in the house with us indoors than run outside with our other dog. She was equal parts companion, peacekeeper, house alarm, vacuum, comedian, roommate, and (for me) therapist. Who I liked in the 8th grade, teenage angst in high school, listening to me hammer out the verses from my short-lived musical career, to asking if I should stay in law school... all of my worries and insecurities went to sleep Wednesday with the perfect secret-keeper.
It’s not rational to eulogize a pet, but she felt like more than a pet to us. My mom wept with us over the phone as I explained to her the euthanasia process. My father was uncharacteristically emotional when I asked him how he thought we should proceed. It felt unfair that I was the one that had to make this decision, but it was my "old yeller" moment. One of the pathetic, sad rites of passage every boy must endure, like having to pay for your own cable or learning to tie your own tie. So tonight, pour out a forty for one of my best, most unheralded friends. Simba, you will be heart-rendingly missed and fondly remembered. I hope you're sleeping happily on a big patio table in the sky.
It seems trivial to be sad about the loss of a dog, but I can’t seem to shake it. After 10 days of decreased mobility, she was almost entirely paralyzed Wednesday and didn’t have enough strength in her legs to stand on her own. She wasn’t in any pain and was still lucid, but just couldn’t stand or walk on her own. My parents were out of town, so my brother, Amy and I had to take her down to the vet, and ultimately made the decision to euthanize her.
She was my dog when I picked her out of a cardboard box in front of Target when I was twelve, but she quickly became a family mainstay. She slept on top of tables in the backyard, slept on a tempur-pedic remnant in my brother’s room inside. We didn't spent much time with obedience training, but she was a patient giant with the little cousins. On the way home from the vet, my brother kept saying "it's like she wasn't a dog; she was a little person." I don't think he meant it in the way people anthropomorphize the dog they carry in their handbag. She just didn't seem to know she was a dog. She preferred to loaf around in the house with us indoors than run outside with our other dog. She was equal parts companion, peacekeeper, house alarm, vacuum, comedian, roommate, and (for me) therapist. Who I liked in the 8th grade, teenage angst in high school, listening to me hammer out the verses from my short-lived musical career, to asking if I should stay in law school... all of my worries and insecurities went to sleep Wednesday with the perfect secret-keeper.
It’s not rational to eulogize a pet, but she felt like more than a pet to us. My mom wept with us over the phone as I explained to her the euthanasia process. My father was uncharacteristically emotional when I asked him how he thought we should proceed. It felt unfair that I was the one that had to make this decision, but it was my "old yeller" moment. One of the pathetic, sad rites of passage every boy must endure, like having to pay for your own cable or learning to tie your own tie. So tonight, pour out a forty for one of my best, most unheralded friends. Simba, you will be heart-rendingly missed and fondly remembered. I hope you're sleeping happily on a big patio table in the sky.
This entry was posted by VJ, on
Friday, April 06, 2007.
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Jorge -
I've been thinking about you the last few days since my brother got a Wii. As the family all gathered around to make Miis I went to show them your Mii video and read of the sad news. I'm sorry for the loss - I understand the sadness. That was a wonderful Simba eulogy and I'm grateful that you shared it and that I get to read it.
All the best from the North,
Paul
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