[ava doesn’t like feels]

Grab a box of tissues and get ready for the feels…

This Story of a Dog’s Last Day on Earth is Beautiful and Utterly Heartbreaking

(via BuzzFeed)

I made the mistake of reading the above post before I had to get ready to go to work. (If you’ve ever had to apply makeup while fighting back body-heaving, ugly crying, then I salute you. You know what a feat of strength that is.) It struck a nerve, as I have a furry buddy of my own.

Ava <3

Ava <3

I managed to get myself together and finish getting ready for work, but throughout the day, I’d think about ol’ Duke and the tears would well up again. And all I could think about (other than Duke, and how awesome dogs are in general) is how good it would feel if I could just get a good cry out. I wasn’t sad about anything in particular, but reading Duke’s story jump-started something in me that needed to be let out. Sometimes, you just need that release that only the aforementioned body-heaving ugly crying can provide. You just need to let it all out and welcome the empty peacefulness that follows, like you’ve just dumped out a bucket that was filled to the brim, unable to hold another drop.

But I wasn’t about to do it at work. I don’t like crying in front of people in general, much less those I’ve only known for about four months. And to have to explain that I was crying because of something I read on BuzzFeed would have been extra awkward, because, really, how do you react to that? Would comforting the crying person be the correct course of action since nothing really happened to him or her? Do you just tip your imaginary hat with an, “Alrighty then,” and make your exit? This particular situation is really a gray area in the realm of social interaction.

I just waited until I got home from work.

I pulled up the post. Read it all again. Studied the images. Read the follow up post. My lower lip trembled. My face scrunched up. And then I was crying. Ugly crying. Where you have to stop just long enough to take in a big, gasping, gulp of air before going at it again. The kind of crying where your face is all red and splotchy, eyes are puffy, and snot is pouring out of your nose. It felt glorious.

When I went to my bedroom to get some more tissue, I saw Ava lying on my bed, watching me. Overwhelmed with another wave of emotion, I went to her, wrapped my arms around her, buried my face in her fur, and cried some more. We stayed like this for approximately ten seconds before she wiggled out of my embrace, walked to the far side of the bed, and laid back down.

What a little bitch.

She’d done this before, after I watched one of those ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLachlan. I have come to theorize that outward displays of extreme emotion make her uncomfortable, like a guy whose girlfriend cries openly in front of him for the first time, and all he can do is hug her awkwardly while calculating the precise moment he can release her without looking like an asshole.

Thanks, hound. I’ll remember this the next time you want to sleep in the bed when it’s thundering outside.

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