Katie Schwartz

It's August, 2nd, 2008 and I have been doing a lot of thinking. Please, I spend so much time in my head, I blew " oy vey " away 10-years ago and replaced it with " oy gevalt ". Seriously, yo. I'm a brain dwelling freak'o nature, which wouldn't be so terrible if I wasn't a raging insomniac. I haven't really slept properly in about a week. What sleep deprived person do you know has perspective? I've been an irritable snatcharella on wheels. I know it and you know it. Impossible to communicate with in any meaningful fashion. God willing, I'll sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I'll wake up feeling, oh, I don't know, human. I'd love to say, refreshed, but that's a stretch. I have never excelled in the art of sleep. It's never been my sport of choice. I envy those who can hit the pillow and fall hard. My sister is a great sleeper. I wish I had that gene. My ma says she had insomnia in her 30s, too and chalks it up to hormones. ...

Before heading out to my doctor's appointment last week, I ran into my postal broad who I happen to like because she's so dishy. She was diligently filling our boxes with bills and asked me where my big black dog was. It's the second time I've been asked (I know you're sick of the death lament. Build a bridge, bitches). It seems I still haven't mastered the art of deathversation. I said, "Dead". She said, "No, shit. For reals? Why"? My first thought was, No, I'm lying, schmuck. Then I thought, has she never heard of the word empathy? What about diplomacy? I have a Webster's that we could've perused together as a family. Then I thought, maybe she thinks I whacked The Kid. Battling between quippy response and sincerity, I was so heartbroken by the reminder, I pussed out. So, I cried and explained that he had abdominal sepsis. BIG-MISTAKE. Without missing a beat in distributing each tenant's mail, she managed to express herself...

The Kid died one month ago today. That occurred to me just a few hours ago. I kept telling myself today was August 31st. It's September 1st. I KNOW. Happy Anniversary is wildly inappropriate. It's right up there with going to a non-Jewish funeral and asking who will be attending the after party . Guilty. I worked on an essay about hagamuffin today and recalled so many fabulous memories. I laughed and I cried. It was cathartic. It was difficult and that's OK. I still miss him so much. I think I always will. I need to learn to live with that, which I will do... eventually.

please don't break up with me. I need a bit more time. I am overcome by the kindness of those I've never met in person. the emails. the comments. the posts. the cards. the flowers. the time spent sharing your lives and your own stories of losing your beloved canine or feline children. you mean a lot to me and I am forever grateful. so, a bit more time, please? I will be back. no breaking up with fehatty, capisce?! thank you! you don't know how much you mean to me, dearies. you just don't know.

beautiful updates below... Louie Jew, Jewcifer, Hagamuffin, Shagamuffin, Buglette Wuglette, Super Bug, Dori, Shags and Shagaboombas , were my kid's nicknames. He joyously answered to all of the above. On August 1st, 2007, I put my beloved Shagamuffin to sleep. I am assured he did not suffer. That he felt relaxed and tired. He was a mess. He had abdominal sepsis. It came on fast, 24 hours and he was gone. They say he was not in pain. His spirit left and had been dwindling two-weeks prior to his departure. His eyes closed as effortlessly as they opened when he came into this world. I am grateful that I was there when he took his first breath and I was there when he took his last. He was my first dog. My first pet. My first born son. I don't know who I am without him or how I will exist on this earth without this child. He saved my life. He was my lifeline when I needed one. He was lovely, sweet, kind and good. He lived an abundant canine life, filled with great friendships, delic...