GOODBYE!!!

Do people ever remember the exact day a relationship ends? Maybe women do. Do women sit around discussing the precise moment they knew things with someone had gone past the point of no return? The exact second when you knew your love for a person wasn’t enough for you to put up with anything else and that it was time to move on? I had that moment today. I knew the relationship was over before today, but I wanted it not to be so. I know walking away is the healthiest thing for both of us, but still... I assume it is natural to blame oneself for things not working out. Hundreds of scenarios run through my mind of how I could’ve, no should’ve done things differently. I question my actions in certain moments and analyze my lack of reaction in others. Then of course you start to dwell on the memories, especially the ones that caused your feelings to grow in the first place. Then again, that might be a man thing. Running across old photos and forgotten videos doesn’t help instill a sense of peace with the decision either. As of today, July 29, 2012, I am officially not a dog owner any longer. Chewy belongs to someone else. It doesn’t seem real even reading it on the screen. Chewy is not mine...

Chewy and I were like peanut butter and jelly, Kool-Aid and sugar or even like Santa and the elves! We just went together and no one even attempted to question the pairing. Ok, they did but eventually just came to accept it. But the elves never pissed in Santa’s bed in any Christmas story I ever read. I love Chewy immensely, but the amount of times he pissed on my bed and/or sofa finally took its toll. Actually, that’s not the case, I was ready to figure out a solution to the problem, but when Chewy started pissing AND shitting in on my roommate’s bed there was no way he could stay. Can’t expect someone to like him let alone love him when he shits not once, but TWICE in your bed. If that ain’t some ruin your day type of happenings people! Can you imagine coming home from a long day, coming into your room to relax, about to lay down on your all white sheets, blankets and bed spread and seeing a pile of brown smelly dog shit right in the middle of your bed. If that ain’t a big “FUCK YOU BUDDY!” from Chewy I don’t know what is. And the truly sadistic thing about it, I know Chewy liked him! That’s what’s so confusing about the entire thing. You all can debate why he did it; I was only concerned with not getting thrown out of my new apartment and saving Chewy’s life. My roommate was ready to literally kill Chewy, commit caninocide! In the end, I guess I could say it was a matter of life and death. My life living in this apartment and Chewy’s death at the hands of an irate Portuguese Veterinarian student.. I kid you not, Chewy pissed and crapped on a Vet’s bed. The irony in that is not lost on me at all.

So, now Chewy has a new home. He knows the person and they did backflips when I first mentioned the possibility of them having Chewy. I know he’ll be loved and well taken care of and far enough away from the Vet so no unexplained accidents befall him. I know it was for the best and he’ll be happy. I can see him whenever I want and he doesn’t live so far away from me. There is no going back on the decision now, but still... I really miss the little hairy midget right now.