Death is a weird thing. I guess for nature it’s as simple as can be, but for us humans who tend to over think and over analyze, death is weird, obscure and terrifying.
Today I am, tomorrow I might be not. And although I know that as a simple information, I cannot fully grasp the concept of me not being here tomorrow. I guess none of us can, and that’s the reason why we die, leaving behind us things that should have been taken care of before we crossed the rainbow bridge.
Personally, I don’t give a damn about what happens to my stuff, my apartment, my car, my personal belongings, my diaries, not even my own body. But when I imagine me dying tomorrow all of a sudden, I do care about what happens to my dogs. In fact, that’s the only thing I care about (well…maybe not the only thing… oh screw it, it is the only thing, why lie?).
As (I hope) most of you out there, I have people around me who love me and adore me and to whom I mean the world. At least, that’s what I’d like to think. But is this really the case? I know some people in my life will cry over my worn out books, and browse though them shedding honest tears (“she loved reading, she always had a book in her hands”).
Others might remember my acting career that never really happened, and talk about it in my funeral. Others will mention my style, my cheap, weird clothes, my love for sushi and Ingmar Bergman. And in my funeral, I see all of them crying and hugging each other, and all I think about is: “Has any of you morons walked my dogs today????????”
My biggest fear is dying and leaving Laura, Apollo and Pela behind, neglected by relatives and friends who “can’t take them in because they are oh so busy, and already have a pet (a fish or sth like that), and don’t know a thing about dogs and the Valia they wanted to remember was not the one with the dogs, and let’s give them away to a charity, they’ll know what to do etc bla bla just being ass holes like the rest of the world”.
A lot of pets that end up in our hands come from people who died. They died while being loved and adored (supposedly). They died and had relatives cry and talk in their funerals, then went back home, opened the door, let the dogs out on the street and continued with their grief – a dogless grief, much more convenient.
It kind of makes you wonder if they were really loved. Some of those people were old, with children and grandchildren, and some were young and died while nobody expected them to. And all of them were surrounded by friends and family that didn’t even consider taking in what the deceased cherished the most (trust me, it’s not the furniture nor the jewelry).
I guess the reason why those people who died hadn’t secured the well-being of their pets beforehand is because of the obvious: dying is frightening, so let’s just not go there. Not having a will is like not having any intention of dying, ever. If we don’t talk about it, it will never happen.
I am afraid of dying too, but most of all, I am afraid of leaving my dogs orphaned. And that’s the only reason I am seriously considering of writing my will, ensuring their well being in the hands of the people I will choose. Am I crazy? Do you have a will? Are your pets included in it?