You Make A Grown Man Cry - Oskee #1

No joke. I got in the car this morning to drive one of the boys to a friend's house, taking a few minutes out of the few precious moments I may have had left together with Oskee, and the song playing when I turned on the car: The Rolling Stones' "You Make a Grown Man Cry." And yeah, that's pretty much true...because Oskee has made me cry...multiple times...as many of you know.

And so here I sit, once again, watching you and crying. And this time, I'm thinking it's real.

Look, I'll be honest: I am writing this for many, pretty selfish, reasons:
1) I don't think I can sit and talk about this over and over with people - even my friends. No offense. I'm a good listener (I think), but I'm not really good at sharing - especially something like this. I'm much better off alone, in the fetal position, in the dark.
2) I feel like I'm better at expressing my feelings in writing. This may or may not be true, but see #1.
3) I am getting old, and though I don't think I'll forget, I want to remember all of the details - and access them easily.

I am not writing this for sympathy. I know that if you're reading this, you care.

But if you're reading this, Oskee is gone. I would be a fool to publish this, only to have to issue a retraction. After all, if you've known Oskee, you know that she's had about 17 lives. When we've thought we were losing her before, she refused to give up. Even as I write this, I am not sure I believe the vet will tell us that she's in pain, that she's beyond saving, that it's time. I mean, SEVENTEEN lives. But she is gone, we are at a loss, and she is hopefully in a better place - running and chasing rabbits like she did in her youth.

And here I sit crying, and thinking about all of the other times I've cried. And I feel like an idiot because I'm crying over a dog - and in this world today, people have real problems. And so many of you are rightly agreeing with me and think I'm ridiculous for crying over a dog. I get it. I'm an idiot, it's embarrassing, and I'm acting like a baby.

But it's also painful. So very painful, and you also understand this if you really know me and you really know Oskee. Because you know that she is my best friend (besides my wife and my siblings). That day we went to the shelter down on Western, and we took her outside to the playpen, and she came right to me when I called "Oskee," she had our heart. She was smart, and she could sit, and she could give paw, and she knew she liked the Illini...and not some stupid name like Xena that the shelter people gave her. So we took her home - after a 2nd special interview because she had been abused and an extra day for the usual procedures and shots.

And while Brandi was off in the business world 4-5 nights a week before she became a teacher (when I thought we'd be rich), it was me and Oskee alone all of those nights in the condo down on Ashland. Me and Oskee playing "Oskee Ball" between the buildings for an hour each night after work. Me and Oskee on the couch while I graded papers at night (and yes, I allowed her on the couch the first time when we had agreed that she wouldn't be a couch dog - I mean, how could I resist my daddy's girl.

Yes, that's how she came into our lives. Before Ami, before Nadav, before Alon - there was Oskee. She was our first baby. The one that taught us responsibility: we can't go to happy hour, we have to get back to walk the dog; we can't just stay overnight, we have to take care of the dog; we'd love to spend the day in the suburbs, but can we bring our dog? The one that watched over all 3 of our boys when they were infants, so gentle and curious and protective.

And this is how she is leaving us - suddenly unable to stay totally balanced last night, a few falls - unable to get back up, unwilling to relax or lay down - seeming fighting to stay with us one more moment. And here I sit, just watching her, blubbering my eyes out, unable to imagine what life is going to be like tonight, tomorrow, the next day. Not sure how I'm going to ease the pain. Not sure what to do with myself. Not sure how to stay strong for my awesome wife and amazing kids.

So many memories I'm probably going to write about when I can't sleep over the next days, weeks, months - but I probably won't publish on FB as I realize most won't really want to read through my depression - I get it. They're mostly for me and Brandi - and maybe for the kids one day. For Alon who loves Oskee but won't remember. For Nadav and Ami who have only known life with her and went to bed last night crying. And for Brandi and me, whose lives have been so enriched by the presence of one sweet, simple, loving being, that we cannot even imagine what tomorrow will bring.

If you're still here, I know you care. I may not be able to talk about it, and I may not respond to messages/emails for awhile, but I know you're there and you care. And I know you'll understand that my heart is absolutely shattered - and I'm not sure it'll ever, ever be fully repaired.