I feel like my entire world has exploded. My heart has been shattered into a million pieces.
Arabella Jane Evans, my baby, my puppy, my little girl, died tonight. Around 12:15am, February 6 2010, in the car on the way to the Tulsa ER vet. Probably somewhere on I-44 between Peoria and Harvard. She took a couple deep breaths and I knew, when I was pulling her limp body out of her car carrier, that she was gone.
The ER vet tried to save her. They tried CPR. They tried a catheter. They tried. I will be forever grateful. There was just nothing they could do. She had no breath sounds, no heart rate by the time I got her in there. She was already gone.
I miss her so much. All her things are here strewn around me, right as we left them. Her bone is on the floor, half-eaten. Her two crates and dog bed sit here, with no dog to sit in them. Everything’s the same, yet nothing will ever be the same. I’ll never again hear her tags clink together on her collar as she bounces, leaps, thumps toward me in the cute way only she could do. I’ll never again be awakened by my little alarm clock, ready to eat and be let outside at exactly 7:30am. I’ll never get to see her tolerate my children yanking her tail and picking her up. I used to imagine how she would react with a screaming baby in the house… I already know how she acts around 2+ year olds (phenomenally.) She won’t be begging for food at the table, dancing on her hind legs. She won’t be chewing my headphones. She won’t be nosing her way into my lap when I’m trying to type on my laptop. I won’t get to celebrate her first birthday on Sunday with my cousins, like we had been planning.
I regret every single moment where I thought life would be easier without her. If only I hadn’t thought that, if only I hadn’t told Kelsi I didn’t believe in heaven or hell, if only I had taken her in ten minutes earlier, if only I had tried to see if there was a closer ER vet. If only if only if only.
I love you, my sweet princess. I love you so much.

