Sola

Sola was more than just a dog. She was my friend, my family. She was a therapist who would listen to my rantings when my mom didn’t answer her phone. She was a healer to my soul, caressing my tears away with sweet kisses. She was a burglar at times as well, as the trash-can will attest. But she was everything to me, and in one single moment it’s all changed. 

It’s been a week since Sola passed, and I have yet to clear out her things. Mom says it will be better to box it all up now so I can start healing, but I just can’t. I know it won’t bring her back, leaving her stuff out, but I’m not ready. I’m just not ready. 

My phone rings on the side table next to the couch, vibrating against the dark wood. I search for the remote to mute the TV show, but it’s fallen into the void between the cushion and the armrest. I glance at the name on the caller ID while fishing it out aimlessly. Momma Ellen. I sigh, my hand finally connecting with the black plastic and freeing it from its prison. She’s called me every day this week, making sure I’m okay and eating and moving around. She’s a great mom. I try to push down the feelings of annoyance as I mute the TV and swipe my finger across the screen to answer.

“Hey, mom.” I say, trying to sound chipper. It comes out flat, and I realize how tired I sound. 

“So your father and I were looking at plane tickets, and we could be there-” I interrupt her.

“Mom, no. I already told you I absolutely forbid you from cancelling the Reece-Hartman Christmas party.” Despite my exasperation, a smile creeps onto my lips. I am lucky in having parents so loving and willing to drop everything to come to me just because my dog died. I know Mr. and Mrs. Reece would understand, of course, but I can’t afford a plane ticket home right now and it wouldn’t be right to ask my parents to come to me. Besides, it warms my heart thinking about the laughter my father and Mr. Reece will be sharing. “I’m doing better every day. I promise.” 

The Reeces are my parents best friends of 45 years. They all met in college and were instant friends. My dad fancied my mom, Jim Reece fancied Sandra Toler, and the rest is history. They have a Christmas get-together every year, always staying up deep into the night laughing and sharing stories. It’s so very wholesome. 

“Alright, Josie,” She says after a pause, “if you say so. Do you have plans for today?” I stand up and walk to the fridge, already anticipating her next question.

“Nope. I have today and tomorrow off, then it's back to work. I got your package, by the way.” I peel off the lid to the small cup of yogurt and shove a spoonful in my mouth. I notice something tickling the side of my mouth, and reach up to remove it. A soft golden hair, that would have at one time annoyed me, comes out and I just stare at it.

“Great! Don’t open it until tomorrow, though. Santa isn’t supposed to have dropped that off yet.” I normally would have given her an obligatory chuckle, but I stay silent. It's not as though Sola didn’t leave fur on everything, but every hair I find is a dagger in my heart. I don’t want to throw them away, even though I know it wouldn’t be throwing her away. It just doesn’t feel right. Reluctantly, I walk to the side of the counter, and force my hand to open the lid to the trash and drop the hair. I watch as it slowly glides down and settles on some discarded mail. “Do you have dinner plans tonight? And have you eaten today?”

My throat is tight and my eyes ache as they try to fill with tears. I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’ve eaten some yogurt today. No plans tonight though, I’ll probably just stay in and make eggs or something.” I try to reseal the yogurt cup and stuff it back into the fridge. I note that I don’t have any eggs, or much of anything for that matter.

“Did you text Angela or Maria?” Mom prods further. I regret telling her that I would ask them what their Christmas Eve plans were.

“Yeah, they’re both preoccupied. It’s good! I’m good.” I lie, hoping she doesn’t press the topic. I slide back down onto the couch as my phone buzzes. Checking the notification, another pit hits my stomach. At least now I have a distraction for her. “Travis just texted me.” 

“Why? And I thought you had blocked him?” I read the text aloud for her.

“‘Hey, Dan told me that he saw on Facebook that Sola died. So sorry to hear that, I know she meant so much to you. I’ve been thinking about you.’ Well, I’m going to unfriend Dan right now. I forgot about him…” I mumble, swiping through my phone to perform the action.

Travis Latham was my fiance. We met six years ago, started dating four years ago, got engaged this past January, and he cheated in May. Or at least I found out about the cheating in May. He was everything I wanted in a man; smart, dependable, handsome, funny, kind, loyal. 

I guess he wasn’t everything I wanted.

He is the reason why Sola and I packed up our lives in Texas and moved across the country to frigid North Dakota. He got a promotion that came with a change of scenery, told me we could get married at this beautiful venue in the snow, and I whisked away with him to start our lives. It felt like the longest drive of my life, but I was happy to do it. Sola had her head out the window in the warmer states, then refused to poke her head out after we passed into Nebraska. We found a beautiful house with a yard for Sola, everything was fitting into place.

Then he met Sara.

I’m told there aren’t too many women working in the oil and gas industry, so I suppose Sara, being a beautiful, dark haired young woman, was a bit of a hot commodity. I met her several times when I brought Travis lunch. I thought she noticed my ring, but apparently not. Or perhaps she did. Either way. Once I saw Travis’s text exchanges, I confronted him, he cried, and I left that day. All the furniture was his anyway, I just packed my bags and Sola’s things and we left. I don’t know why I didn’t just move back home immediately. I think perhaps I was still hoping we could recover this love that we had, so I got an apartment instead. Got a job, started working.

Then Sola died.

“Well just block him and you won’t have to see his name ever again, okay?” I can hear the sad expression on her face in her words. I know that she hurts for me. “Listen, I’m gonna call you tomorrow and maybe we’ll do a video chat while you open your present?” 

I nod and fake a smile. I hope it comes through my voice. “That sounds great, mom. I love you, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” 

After disconnecting, I read the text from Travis again. I didn’t tell mom the full text message because it was too painful to read. 

I’ve been thinking about you. I miss you. I love you, Jos. Always will. Please just talk to me. I know you want to seclude yourself after Sola, but please just let me in. Let’s repair this. You know I’m so, so sorry.

It makes me angry, but also deeply sad. I’ve told him a number of times to stop texting me, but I can never bring myself to actually block him. I had so much love for him. I still feel the echoes of that love. In Sola’s absence I worry I might do something I would regret, so I stuff the phone into the front pocket of my plaid pajama pants and sit in silence. I hate the silence, but I need to subject myself to it. To accept that she’s gone. Off to the right of the TV her dog bed still sits with her outline pressed into the fabric. I put a photo of her in the center so I can still see her there.

Sola came to me in the summer, 8 years ago. Walked right up to me as I was getting the mail. She was just a puppy, probably around 11 or 12 weeks old, but so small. Flea-ridden, poor thing, but then again she was living in the woods. I checked around for more puppies but found none. The vet guessed she was a golden retriever mix, and I think he was right. Her coat was exactly what a golden retriever’s looked like, but with some white on her chest and muzzle. She was smaller than a golden too, weighing only about 45 pounds. I suspected perhaps jack russell or border collie, but I never got her DNA tested to know for sure. Now I never will. She was just perfect.

I named her Sola accidentally. It was supposed to be Solar but when I texted my best friend I left off the last letter, and it stuck. She was always basking in the sunlight, so I was going to name her “Solar” but then Sola fit her so well. I looked the name up online and read that it meant “alone”, and thought it still fit since she had been fending for herself for a while. But with me, she was never just Sola. I called her so many different variations of her name, but she knew I was talking to her every time. Sola-powered, Sola-Cola, Soso, Snooty-butt - she responded to them all.

I never really thought about how to respond to a dog dying. I didn’t handle it well at all. Sola stood up from the floor and looked at me, then collapsed. I ran to her, but it was too late. I couldn't hear her heart beating. I tried to do CPR, I called 911, but they don’t handle dog emergencies obviously. I don’t know what I was thinking, I was just desperate. The kind dispatcher told me where the address to the nearest emergency vet. It was a 20 minute drive, and I did my best to get her there in half the time. Vet there said it was too late. She’d suffered some sort of cardiac episode and was gone.

I was asked if I’d like them to dispose of her body for me. I was hoping to bury her, but I live in an apartment. Alternatively, they told me I could contact a pet cremation service. So I did. I left Sola’s beautiful, love filled body on a cold counter. The woman was very kind and I felt I left Sola in good hands, but it was leaving that was the hardest. The woman - Ann was her name, I think - allowed me all the time I needed and didn’t judge my tears. She told me they’d be able to get Sola back to me in a few weeks as their staff would be out for a majority of December for the Holidays. I broke down again but thanked her and provided my information so she could contact me when her ashes could be collected.

The first few days following her loss, I was out of my mind and completely broken down. I didn’t eat, and barely slept. Christmas was around the corner and I had been hiding some new treats I bought for her so she wouldn’t beg for them too early. Every little thing was excruciating.  The following days I felt numb. I had to eat something, but I swear everything lost its taste. I ate a little, slept a lot. I had to go back to work, and that helped some. Forced me to think about others, forced me to get out of the house. My co-workers were sympathetic, especially Angela. She lost her dog two years ago.

Today, I’m off.  It’s Christmas Eve, I should be dressed up somewhere with someone, not moping about my empty apartment. But I just feel alone as ever. Day turns to night and I curl up in a ball on the couch, a fur-covered blanket wrapped tightly around me as I watch a TV show. I don’t remember what the premise of the show is.

A loud knock at the door startles me and I freeze. I wait a few moments, hoping whoever it is will leave. Another, more insistent knock on the door comes. A sickening realization trickles along my spine and down my arms. 

Travis.

I foolishly shared with him my address one day when he was bringing me something I’d left at the house. He insisted he would bring it to me instead of allowing me to get it. Idiot, Josie. I close my eyes tight hoping there won’t be a third knock. 

A third knock, this one slightly less aggressive comes. I wait about 15 seconds before finally realizing he’s not going to leave. I get up, fully agitated now, and march to the door with all the frustration I can muster. I wrench the door open and am surprised when there is no one there. I peek down the hall to my right - no one. I turn to the left to see halfway down the hall, a woman is standing with a box. She’s looking right at me, eyes wide. I secretly curse myself for being so loud with the door. 

“Are you Josephine?” She calls down the hall, breath forming a small cloud in the freezing air.

“I am, sorry about that. Thought you were my ex.” I deliver the last part with a nervous chuckle. Thankfully, she snorts a laugh at that and shuffles back over to me, motioning to the package with a gloved finger.

“I was going to turn it into the front office if you didn’t answer.” She announces. I don’t bother mentioning that would be impossible, as the front office is closed. Instead, I look at the package curiously. “Here you go. Oh, and Merry Christmas.” She places the package in my hand and smiles warmly at me before turning and walking away.

“You too.” I fumble out after her. I turn and close the door, rubbing my cold arms to bring some heat back into them. The package is small and has no return label on it. The address is hand written as well, and not in my mother’s handwriting. It’s no handwriting I know at all. I’m tempted to leave it for tomorrow, but seeing as I don’t know what it is or who it's from, curiosity gets the better of me. I retrieve a knife from the kitchen and slice open the tape. First, I pull out a well wrapped object shaped somewhat like an oval. Then, I notice the handwritten note on a brown paper card.

Josephine,

I hope this card finds you well. As I celebrated this Christmas season with my family, you popped into my head. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone for Christmas, so I wanted to get her back to you as soon as possible. I handled the process myself, sorry it took so long. Merry Christmas.

Ann

My heart jumps in my chest. I carefully unwrap the tissue paper encasing the item, until I’m left holding a medium sized urn. It’s made of caramel colored clay with flecks of gold in it. I turn it over in my hands to see an inscription, reading, “Sola: My Sunshine” and a symbol of a sun below.

I vaguely remember sobbing into Sola’s fur while at the cremation facility, calling her by all my nicknames for her and telling her how much she meant to me. This gift causes me to cry softly, cradling her urn in my hands. But it's not the deep and painful type of crying; it’s one mixed with relief and acceptance. Peace. Ann, you’re an angel.

For the first night this week, I sleep on a dry pillow. I have Sola sitting on my nightstand and I just stare at her urn until I drift off. 

I sleep through the night.

I shower the next morning and wash my face. I venture to the grocery store and buy some eggs and other various items. On the way home, I turn on some Christmas music. I make myself breakfast, and text mom that I’ll call her later and do presents. Having Sola back changed something for me. I can’t even really explain it, but I know that I’ve bottled up all my emotions and Sola’s death tipped me over the edge. I’m still mourning, I don’t think I’ll ever not feel this sadness. But I’m going to be okay. 

Sola’s name means “alone”, and that is what I am now. But there is a beauty in that. She taught me how to be okay on my own. She got me through the hardest times of my life. She left too early, but she stuck with me long enough to make sure I’m okay. Now, I need to be strong for her sake.

I love you, Sola. Always. Thank you for being my ray of shining light. The world is still brighter because of you, and will be forever more.