I got angry at Dionysos.

I got angry at Dionysos.

Wednesday morning, I texted my dad.  "How's the dog?"

"Not well.  We need you here by 7:45 tomorrow.  It's time to let her go."

17 years she was with us, my pup.  17 blissful years of a stubby little tail wagging her entire bottom whenever I walked in the door, of tummy rubs and sloppy kisses and begging for carrots.  Even though she'd been very ill for a few days, it was too much.  I broke down and started crying at work.  My supervisor, thankfully, has lost a pet before, and gave me some time to myself and a box of tissues.  So I went into a room alone and cried.

Dionysos and I have had an agreement in the past--when my pain is unbearable, He will replace it with joy.  This has worked well for the unexplained, untriggered bouts of depression.  But this time... this time, when He stood before me, arms outstretched, offering, I snapped.

"Go away!  I don't want you here!  You can't have this!  This is MINE, this is MY pain!  I'm allowed to feel this right now.  Go away!"

And He did.  Later, I went home, to spend one last night with my dog.  And as I cried in bed, He came to me again.

"Fuck you!  Fuck you and your joy!  Get the hell away from me!  There is no joy that can replace this, you ass!"

This time, He did not go.  He kept standing there, holding out His arms, looking at me.  I continued screaming, ranting, raving.  I threw things (which is a decidedly odd experience in trance, because you never know what's going to be there to throw).  I cussed, I cried, I fell to my knees.  And I looked at His face.

He was crying.  I understood, then.  He did not offer me joy.  He did not offer to take my pain away.  He offered me comfort.  He offered me empathy.  He knows what it's like, perhaps better than any other god I've worked with, to lose someone precious.

I went to him, then.  And I wept, hot tears, bitter tears, angry tears, despairing tears.  I wept for myself, I wept for my parents and sister, I wept for my dog.  And He held me, and rocked me, until I slept.

I have never watched someone die before.  I lost my great grandmother when I was in 6th grade, but I wasn't close to her.  I lost my aunt in college, but I was away, and she had been very sick for a very long time.  My dog, though, was simply old.  When the sickness came, it was over in less than a week.  Liver failure is like that.  She just started shutting down.  But I was there, with her, with my parents, and I watched her last breath.  The vet took out a stethoscope and held it to her chest.  "She's gone," and my father began to weep, and clung to me.  My mother bent over on the table.  And I cried out to Dionysos.

The pain is still very fresh.  The grief is very real.  It comes in waves... so long as I'm busy, I'm fine.  I had to plan this post in small bits, throughout the day, in between activities that took all of my concentration.  I'm still not sure it makes sense. Even planned as it was, I can't see the keyboard through the tears.  But it's out there, now.

Hail, Comforter.
Hail, bringer of peace.
Hail, Dionysos.

Hail, Hekate.
Hail, Mistress of crossroads.
Hail, guardian of my pup, who runs with your hounds in the worlds beyond this one.

Hail, Sadie, flopping ear and wagging tail.
I love you.
I miss you.