The Michael Swayne Story V: King of his Castle

You all know about my dog, Luca. If not, well, here's a summary:

Way back (Winter 2009) when I and my siblings were living together in our parents' house while they were in prison, my brother was given a dog by the people he was fixing up a house for. The dog was still just a little puppy at the time, and named the puppy Luke. My brother thought it was fitting, because my dog's name was Bo (Bo and Luke, the Duke Boys, ha ha). Anyway, it turns out that Luke was a girl (my brother is a bit of an idiot sometimes), and instead of changing her name to Daisy (another Duke name), Luke became Luca (the boy spelling, and based on the city in Final Fantasy X/X-2).

Fast forward to when Luca had her first litter of puppies. A few months after that, my remaining puppies (I had given away all except Palom and Porom, the twin white puppies) and Bo died of parvovirus or something (I don't know exactly what). But Luca lived. I was torn up for having spent the last seven years with Bo, and add to that the death of the puppies, Mom's cat (attacked by some kind of animal), and my Nana, I was inconsolable. Luca was my comfort. My rock. She became my everything. My brother and sister had at this time left to start their own lives, leaving me with the house to take care of for Mom and Dad. So Luca was all I had, literally.

Luca moved with me to the Carma's. There, she had several more litters of puppies with Carma's black lab, Jackson. We kept a couple of the dogs here and there. It was wonderful to have so many fur babies (I hate calling them that, but the Internet apparently loves it for some reason). Then when all of this stuff happened that caused both Carma and I to leave the house for good, Luca stayed behind while I worked on buying the house I am living in now. It was good, because she could protect the house for Autumn and Ben. Plus, she was pregnant yet again, this time by a Boxer dog down the road. I was so happy! I was a grandpoppy again!

That was two weeks ago.

I have visited Luca every couple of days since I moved out, because I have it in me to think that she will forget me or something. And after the puppies were born, I made it a point to visit even more. When I visited on Friday, she was physically weaker than normal. I attributed it to her puppies milking her dry. I went to the store and got her all of the things she needed to boost her weight. However, I didn't link what I found her doing when I arrived that day to the state her body was in. She was digging a hole.

I received a call on Saturday morning from Ben, saying that Luca had passed away overnight. I got dressed and rushed over there. My thoughts were about the puppies. They were one week old, and they couldn't fend for themselves yet. When I arrived, all five (there were originally six, but one died) were still alive and well. After crying in her doghouse for a bit (I can fit in it comfortably) with the puppies in my arms, I composed myself, put Luca in the van, went into the house and got the puppies some milk. After they sucked the milk off my fingers for a bit, I left them to tend to Luca's burial. I drove into the woods and went to the spot I buried Little Guy (Carma called him Grizz, but he was always Little Guy to me), and got started digging the grave.

While I was digging, I called the local humane society to see what they could do to help. Unfortunately, there was no room at the shelter for the puppies. And even if there was room, they couldn't take them in because of how young they were. A foster family would have to be found that could provide constant care for the five orphans. I am not allowed to have pets here, or I would most definitely have taken them myself. It would be hard, but I would have done it somehow. The humane society said that I would have to call back in two weeks. Until then, I had to find someone that could care for them. Autumn and Ben were reluctant, but agreed to do it providing I paid for the things they would need.

It is hard, you know? I mean, of course you know. Most of you have had a pet yourself, and it truly sucks, because they aren't just a pet. They are family. And Luca was my family, and for a time, she was my only family. But the hardest part is that she will never get to play in this yard or live in this house that I am trying to buy. My whole reason for moving to my boss's property was because one day she and I will have this place for us. I moved here at $450 per month and not be allowed to have her here to one day own it, and turned down the place in the grody part of the village at $400 per month with permission to have her with me, but never actually own the land.

I finally have something to regret. I regret not taking the cheaper place, because it would have meant I could have had more time with her (possibly). I could have been able to take care of her more if she was with me, instead of ten miles away. But all of the wishing and could haves aren't bringing her back.

It seems I am cursed. I can't seem to have a dog for more than seven years. Luca was seven. Bo was seven. Baby (my white Siberian Husky) was seven when he was killed. My first dog, Jake (German Shepherd), was stolen when both he and I were seven (Mom and Dad got him when I was born).

And the worst thing now is all of the people posting stuff about dogs on Facebook and other social media, and I can only think, "Yeah, my dog used to do that silly stuff all the time."

But I am getting through it somehow. I sleep more, because I have lost the motivation to do other things. I still go to work, but sometimes it feels like there's no point. I was only working so I could one day make it so she and I had our own yard to play in. I got my driver's license so I wouldn't have to ride my bike to visit her.

Oh well. Life goes on, and I know that I will one day forget everything that ever made me happy in life, so there's that to look forward to.

Moving on...

My place is really starting to feel like a home (it never will now, but it may get close). I have living room furniture, and a kitchen table and chairs. Today, I bought a bed, because I am physically sick of sleeping on the floor. My chest has been so congested because of me sleeping on the floor. My ribs hurt from the pressure of being on the floor. My back has had no support, so much that I am walking around the house like a 90-year-old man for an hour after waking up. Plus I am waking up every couple of hours in pain. Anyway, what else is there? Oh yeah, my gaming room is finished! I believe I told you that already, but it finished finished. I just haven't had time to use it much. I get on long enough for my tournaments, but that's about it.

I have taken a driving route at the newspaper now that I can drive. It is okay. It is an extra fifty miles of delivering, and I am only getting an extra $35 for it. But I want to help out, and it is extra practice being behind the wheel. My work van is getting the brakes worked on tomorrow, and I am hoping that I will have time to do the driving route. Technically, I am not supposed to use the van for anything other than going to and from GE, but since I am paying for the gas, I want to go where I want to go. Most likely, I will be paying for the repairs tomorrow, and it will be just one more reason for me to keep the driving route.

But honestly, I feel super weird driving it around the towns I go to. I mean, it is a non-descript white van, and we all have heard stories about those kinds of vehicles. Nothing good has ever come from one.

Well, I have to go to bed. It is Thursday tomorrow, and I have my routes to do. So, I will see you around the forums, and until then...

Later!

Michael