Been there

I went through a heavy drinking phase in my life. And it was just that - a phase. Sure, I still drink, sometimes even to excess. But, after I eventually survived the hell that I drank to ignore and escape, I no longer needed to be that person. I no longer wanted to be that person. She was fun up to a point. Then she was just a pain in the ass, a joke, a hassle. I'm lucky I had great friends who loved me enough to stand by me when I acted that way. I'm sure I was a handful to say the least. I just don't understand the desire to be that person all the time although I see people like that a lot. Some of them are going through a difficult time in their life like I was. Others seem to have chosen this as a way of life. They're the ones I don't understand. When I was like that, I still woke up feeling horrified and humiliated knowing the things I'd said and done, or worse, not knowing. For me, there was nothing worse than waking up and not remembering the night before. That feeling was not something I wanted to repeat on a regular basis. Who wants to be that person? I'd rather be aware of my life.

My Sweet Mimi

I usually say that I don't believe in love at first sight, but that's not entirely true. It happened to me once - on May 8, 1992. This fluffy little furball came through my front door and I was overcome with the most intense feelings I ever experienced before or since. I have had other pets, friends, boyfriends, even a husband and I have loved them all deeply, but nothing quite matches the feelings I have for my Mimi.

She was only 6 weeks old and couldn't even get up and down the stairs by herself because they were so much bigger than she was. For her first few weeks, every time she had to go out (and puppies go out a lot!), I had to carry her. I never cared if I had to wake up to do it or rush home from somewhere. She was worth it. She was smart as a whip, playful as child, mischievous as the devil, and loving and loyal as all dogs.

Unlike a lot of people, I have not sugar-coated her rottenness in my memory. She was just awful in her early years. And she reveled in her wickedness. Her favorite game was to find new ways to escape the yard to go on adventure. But first, she would stand on the other side of the fence, waiting for me to notice that she had gotten out yet again. She would let me get close enough to reach her. And then, with a mischievous gleam in her eye, she'd take off like a shot.

In her 15 years, she went through more health problems than she deserved - epilepsy, cancer, eventually losing a leg. But she never lost her sense of mischief. Indeed, it didn't make as many appearances in her final year, but she still trotted out the occasional trick. She had two favorites. She loved to look at some mysterious spot on the ceiling. She'd look and look and then look at me to see if I was looking too. Eventually I would look and then, I swear, she'd laugh at me! She would open her mouth and pant and get that evil gleam in her eye and I'd know I'd been had.

She also devised a trick for getting extra treats. She used my other dog, Maddie, as her wingman. She'd send Maddie in to soften me up by being cute and acting like she needed something. Mimi would hang back and watch. About the time that I was completely confounded by what Maddie wanted (food, water, outside, toys?), Mimi would come in to close the deal with her most irresistible charms. As soon as I'd ask her what she wanted, she'd run to the kitchen and head for the treats. Then I'd ask her to show me what she wanted and she'd lie down, her usual trick to earn a treat. Got me every time!

In the end, she made it so easy for me. I would have hung in there with her as long as things were still OK for her no matter what I needed to do for her. On Sunday, June 24, 2007, I knew something was wrong right away. She didn't look like herself. As the day progressed she wound down further and further. By night time, I brought my pillow out to the living room and stayed up with her all night. We laid side by side on the floor just looking into each other's eyes. We only slept for about 15 minutes. I took her out at one point and let her feel the cool grass and the summer breeze one last time. In the morning I took her to the vet as soon as they opened. She was barely hanging on, but we had time for our goodbyes. I made sure that my face was the last face she saw, my voice was the last voice she heard, and my hands were the last touch she felt. I had always promised her that I would take care of her until her final breath and, oddly enough, it was the easiest thing I ever did. But living without her is still the hardest.

In those last moments, I finally truly understood the line M'Lynnn says in Steel Magnolias after her daughter's funeral, a line I now consider one of the most beautiful ever written. "I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life and I was there when she drifted out. It was the most precious moment of my life."

While remembering Mimi is always bittersweet, today I will try to think only of that first day she came to live with me. The tears I cried as I first held her knowing that I would never love anyone as much and knowing that someday I would have to say goodbye; the laughter as I watched her trying to hop over my legs and getting high-centered on her round puppy belly; the absolute all-consuming warmth that washed over me as I realized I had met the true love of my life.