This evening, after Jeff came home I went to get Tink's ashes. The veterinarian center had called last week to notify us that they had her remains but I wanted to be the one to go get Tink. I didn't get to say good-bye to her. Jeff took her to the veterinarian while Brian and I slept at home on that Monday morning.
With the Easter weekend and my weekly visits to the Bay Area, there would be no time in which I would be able to go the veterinarian center alone. I wasn't sure how I would feel or what my response would be upon having to ask for Tink's ashes or upon being handed her remains in a box, and so I just didn't think that Brian should be with me.
I hadn't been to the veterinarian clinic before. I sat in the lobby while an employee helped another woman. I didn't want anyone in the lobby to be there, but there was a woman there and a couple when I was asked if I had been helped. Tears started welling in my eyes after I told her what I needed while I stood at the counter. She pulled out a drawer and reached for Tink's box, a small wooden coffer. A white plaque with Tink's paw print was tied to the top of the box with pink ribbons. It struck me how small her little box was, she had been a small dog, the smallest dog that I've ever had. There was my Tink. I didn't want the small box, I wanted my little girl back.
With Tink's remains in my hands I walked back to our car. I had laid my sweater out on the passenger seat so that I could lay Tink on it. When she was our only dog, she often sat on the passenger seat beside me. I drove our compact Saturn which meant that everything was within reach in that small car. When I stopped for a Frappucino, Tink was happy to be offered the whipped cream on top. I would have wanted to get one for her again but due to my health condition I was unable to do that.
While we sat in the car together today, I told Tink once again that I loved her and missed her dearly. I told her that I appreciated her undying love and friendship. I told her that if she was happy, then that would bring me comfort.
I still miss her. Those unsettling "firsts" have already occurred, such as having that extra dinner meat that no one is begging for and not hearing any barking when the bell is rung. When Jeff's parents had stopped for a visit a week earlier they had their two dogs with them, Bob and Charlie. I remember thinking that Tink would have loved their visit. She loved attention from Karen. She and Pip would sit beside her or on her lap as she petted them. And because Tink had lived with Jeff's parents and Bob, they were family to her, too. She would have enjoyed their visit and unfortunately, she only missed it by about four days.
When everyone is asleep and the house is quiet, I think about our dogs. I miss them very much and I think about the good times that we spent together. Usually before I fall asleep, I imagine Tink in my arms again. I'm dancing with Tink in my arms and Haley Reinhart's "Can't Help Falling in Love" is playing for us. Tink is well again, she's beautiful and youthful once again and she's happy to be in my arms again.
After Brian and Jeff went to bed, I continued working on chores. Then I started playing our song, and in our family room I started dancing softly while I had Tink's remains in my arms. I miss you terribly, Tink. I'll love you forever, my little girl.
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