Yesterday afternoon we left at about 4:00 to do an errand and pick up Eric. Then we went to the dollar store and to eat burgers, just for fun. Before we left we put the dogs outside. Taevy ASKED me to let Jake stay in his crate, but I said he would be fine outside. He'd learned the lay of the land (knew where the dog house was); the grass didn't knock him over anymore (he was even running and jumping through it!) and there was food, water, and shade. But he wasn't okay. It was over 100 degrees. I made a mistake. He wasn't ready, and I pushed him too fast.
We walked in at about 8pm last night and I asked the kids to let the dogs in. Samren went out first with Taevy close to follow. The two big dogs barreled in. It's not unusual that we would have to go and get Jake out of his doghouse, so they headed out to get him. The next thing I know Taevy is screaming in terror, over and over, "He's dead! He's dead!" She's covering her eyes and in complete trauma mode.
The best we can figure, Jake probably did have a seizure. During seizures he wails. Dogs don't "get" this. We figure Kilo ran to him to investigate this totally "wrong" behavior and didn't know how to respond. She responded by shaking him until she broke his neck. There was a small puncture wound in his neck that caused all of the bleeding, but I have a feeling that occurred after he was already gone.
I know in my head that if Jake couldn't tolerate extreme temps he probably never could have lived long in Oklahoma. I know in my head that Kilo didn't intend to do anything wrong (even if she did intend to put him out of his misery). But that doesn't stop me from feeling responsible for his death, and a little bit standoffish towards this other dog, that I also love deeply.
[Today both dogs have gone to Jake's "crib" (the wodden magazine bin he's pictured in on this blog). When they went out this morning they both sniffed all around his death area, looking for him for several minutes. I know in my hear that my dog did not intend to do anything "wrong."
I hate that my children saw that scene. It has haunted me pretty much every minute of this day. Still, as silly as it is, I break out and cry randomly. Taevy has had a very rough day too. It hit her very hard to think about Jake not having a soul--that this isn't going to be like deaths of a saint, where we will spend eternity with him. Taevy and I woke up with eyes very swollen from all of the crying. When we went to a family gathering today my in-laws asked what was wrong with my eyes! I'll spare you my eyes, but this is what Taevy looked like this morning. Maybe morbid to document that, but anyway.Samren internalizes and puts it out of his mind. Kendi doesn't get it at all and doesn't seem to miss him. Bright (who was absolutely obsessed with this puppy and had him in his possession pretty much every moment I didn't have him) is learning what death means for the first time. He keeps asking where Jake is. He can tell you he's dead, but he doesn't get that it's permanent.
So now I've written a novella about Jake's death, and I hear my daddy's voice in the back of my head saying, "Nita, this is JUST a dog. You can get another one." And I know daddy, you're right. But he was a special one. For whatever goofy reason, Jake meant more. So I'm writing way too long with way too much detail for this type of audience, because this blog is my place to vomit my emotions sometimes. And right now, I miss my puppy. I don't want to lay my head down tonight and not feel him nuzzling in the crook of my neck. I wish I could sleep away the next several days rather than FEELING.