The numbing feeling of shock and then the coverup, trying to pretend that everything is OK. Hearing about the death of a loved one makes my body go cold, especially at the extremities. Instead of circulating evenly around the body, all my blood flows inward towards my heart, making sure my vitals keep ticking normally despite the news that I am receiving.
Sensi died on Thursday and I was told of her death on Friday night, to protect me and allow me to get through my busiest and most difficult day of the week. I had finished school after 14 hours of work when I received the news. Before hearing the news, all I wanted to do was have a glass of wine and unwind after such a stressful day but my body and mind were now tense, not to be unleashed until I allowed my sorrow to consume me.
Sensi was not a human being (it hurts me to say “was”), she was a dog but to me, for me she was so much more.
Sensi was born on July 7th, 2000. I was ten years old and my mother’s parents had just died of cancer in England. We had spent the summer with them, waiting for what we all knew would come. Our previous dog, Sam, a Schipperke, the same type of dog Sensi, had died the same year. Sensi was a breath of life in a family where death had hung over for months. During my grandparents’ funeral, this six week old puppy made me laugh and feel that everything would be OK.
We picked up Sensi on our way to the funeral in the Midlands. We were at the time based in Hamble, in the south of England. My mother felt that it was a good idea to get another dog and found a Schipperke breeder in Wales. One of the breeder’s dogs had given birth to a litter recently. After having a male dog (and suffered his wanderings) we decided that we wanted a female. There was one female in the litter. The runt of the litter.
My first memory of Sensi is walking into this woman’s house in Wales and hearing a piercing scream. Sensi had been recently weaned from her mother and obviously did not like visitors. She hid under the couch and would not come out for awhile but we slowly won her over.
Sensi then accompanied us on our journey (by boat) back to the Caribbean. She was a treasure to us all. A promise of life after everything that we as a family had been through.
From the age of ten to the age of 24, Sensi was a constant in my life. When we sailed around the world for two years, she was my only friend and confidante (Who better than a dog?) and throughout my teenage years, despite the changes in identity that I was experiencing, she was there without judgement.
Because we welcomed Sensi into our home during a time of hurt and sadness, I never took for granted her presence. Every moment I had with her was precious. In the Spring of this year I was lucky to have her all to myself for two weeks while my parents travelled to Nevis. I treasured every moment. We walked the streets of Greenpoint, travelled to upstate New York and even went to Coney Island together. Sure, I was a little jealous that she paid so much attention to Barney but I lived with it and realized that it was a good omen.
This year we were again in a difficult time. Dad was diagnosed with cancer and we were in shock. Sensi helped pull us through. When Dad was in hospital I smuggled her in so that he could see her. At Christmas I got to see her play in the snow and she loved it. She kept us going.
And almost as if she realized that we would all be OK again, she herself became sick.
When I returned to the States after spending the Summer in Paris I finally saw Sensi’s fragile mortality. She had developed a tumor in her mouth, making it hard for her to eat and breath. The rapidity with which the tumor grew was frightening and astounding. I didn’t want to admit it but in my heart I knew that we were reaching the end.
Sensi, you will always be missed by both myself, Mom, Dad, Barney and the many people that you touched during your life. The hole that you have left in my life is unfathomable at the moment but I know with time, I will be able to navigate that space and just be thankful for the time I had with you. You were an angel in more ways than one and I will always miss you.
Sincerely,
Your Sister
