Jeff said that the vet offered to do an autopsy, but he didn't want them "cutting on him any more." I have to wonder if the vet screwed up, or if it was just Thor's time to go. I thought that if something like that happened to one of my cats, I'd raise hell and file a lawsuit. I guess he realizes that it wouldn't do any good. Nothing will bring Thor back. Jeff also said he wondered how many times he'd wake up hearing Thor snoring.

I walked in the dark bedroom this morning without worrying about tripping over Thor, who liked to lay at the foot of the bed. He meant more to me that I realized or cared to admit. I hope he didn't think I hated him.

I had an idea on the way to work that maybe we could plant something on his grave instead of or in addition to a stone marker. I hate the idea of selling this house and leaving him there for the new owners to do as they please. Jeff says he didn't think Thor deserved to be burned and that he would not want to be burned. He knows I want to be cremated, and I told him it is not a bad thing or a punishment.

I said that I thought this procedure would be no big deal. He said it shouldn't have been. I started to run out of the room crying, feeling like I'd let him down by not getting all the facts in my internet research and insisting that everything would be ok. He stopped me and said it wasn't my fault. I guess it's not, but I feel horrible. When Jeff wondered aloud how soon his prostate would shrink back down and alleviate his discomfort, I told him that most of what I read alluded to almost immediate relief. I guess that's what happened, in a way.

I think Jeff is mostly finished crying. Now he just sighs heavily. It's going to be hard for him when his friends or family visit and ask where Thor is. A longtime friend, Chuck, came over and immediately asked where he was, since he didn't greet him at the door as usual. So, Jeff has to retell the story while I retreat to the computer because I don't feel at all chatty or hospitable.

I'm trying not to cry in front of Jeff. I usually try to hide crying from him, anyway, because I don't want to be one of those weepy women who use crying to make a man feel bad. I also don't want to upset him any further. And now (at 10:08 am) I'm having a hard time at work. Luckily my office mate is on leave, and I can close my door. I don't want anyone to see me this way and think I'm weak. I don't think many people here would understand. Some people just don't care that much for animals, like my Dad.

And another thing - Thor was a pit bull. He never harmed anything or anyone. He was the best dog either of us have ever known, and we'll never have a dog like him again. Unless he's reincarnated, I guess. I don't know if we'd be lucky enough for him to find us, or vice versa, though. We had the epitome of how wonderful a widely maligned breed of dog could be, and now he's gone.

I remember...

...the look on his face when one of us said, "Wanna go for a ride?"

...the way he'd follow me from room to room.

...the way he'd whine and paddle his feet as if he was running when he was dreaming.

...the way he loved to play with a basketball, and keep it away from you.

...the way he got along with the cats. Especially Buzz, who was a kitten when we got Thor, and was Thor's buddy.

...the way he found Baby for me when I had to give her medicine and she was hiding under the TV. All I said was, "Where's the kitty?"

...the monkey noises he made when he was playing.

...the way he would gently take his heartworm pill out of my fingers to avoid biting me.

...sitting with him on the floor and getting him to finally eat something after he got home from being treated for heartworms.

...how everyone liked/loved him, even my Dad. That's saying a lot.

...the way he would just put his teeth on your skin rather than biting down when we played with him.

...the joy, fun, laughter, and love he brought into our lives.