Woman’s Best Friend

By Kristel Erguiza Staff Writer A week ago, my dog, Sabrina, passed. Hearing that as I’m writing this still makes my heart drop. It just doesn’t make sense. I think last week I cried a total of seven times every day of the week. She passed away last Monday morning, which had obviously made me withdraw from my community, hoping that this wasn’t a true experience that happened to me, and that I was just going to wake up the next day and see her. It’s very hard to understand grief. I experienced it once before, and Sabrina feels more significant. She was my best friend - a dog that I could confide in and she would listen. A dog that despite her not being able to talk, still conveyed her emotions through her actions. I am constantly trying not to think of her when I am busy with something, hanging out with friends or my family. How could I? Now I hate that I have to use the past tense when talking about her. I have to feign a smile when I think of her, because I still get so sad thinking of her. She was honestly the one who made me the happiest. She came into my room when she knew I was sad. She smiled when she knew I was happy. She barked when she knew I was mad. Though a dog, she understood me and my emotions. I understood hers when she was hungry, sad, sleepy, or mad that she was not getting attention. Days when I’d be annoyed or mad at something, Sabrina was always there to lend an ear (or a paw) when I just was overwhelmed with my feelings. Sometimes, I wish she could’ve talked so I could know what she sounded like. I kept on resenting God about what had happened to Sabrina and how it made my family feel. Especially how Sabrina’s passing impacted my parents. My parents, both registered nurses, always come home at insane hours of the day and have Sabrina to look forward to when opening the front door. She was a very sassy girl. My siblings and I would get her dresses and jackets for the winter, shirts and dresses for the summer and spring, but she would just want them taken off! She always wanted some sort of attention, even if it was just a glance from one of us when we were busy doing something. She slept a lot every day, but always made time for our family, and always woke up right when one of us would open the door. Running outside the door to greet my mom or dad, she would always run to the corner of the yard and just find somewhere to use the bathroom. It still does not feel real - her not being here. I got two necklaces for her, one with an emblem of her face, and another with her name etched onto a heart that I can put her ashes into. My parents gave me advice on how to move on, saying it would be hard but to just use her as an inspiration for my life. I’ve been taking this advice with me day by day, using it to help me cope and move on, though hard to do. My grief for her will always be there but my love for her will be stronger. ¶