Other people around me are sad, but nowhere near the extent that I am. Is it that strange to get so attached?
Absolutely not. I grew up with an adorable miniature schnauzer named Max. We were the best of pals for the longest time, and when I went off to college, my parents said he slept at the front door almost every night. Whenever I visited from college, he and I were inseparable.
He got ill, though, later in his life, developing diabetes and then some eye problems. He also developed a tumor in his stomach. Not long after he had surgery to remove the tumor, he went blind from diabetes-related complications. He was able to function for a while, as he had partial sight in one eye, but eventually it was completely gone. It culminated during a time that I was home from college.
That happened at precisely the time that my mother and my sisters were vacationing in the upper peninsula of Michigan, about 9 hours away from where we lived in Chicago. They were four days into an 18-day trip.
Max had gotten so sick that he had lost himself underneath my computer desk, and kept on walking into the sides of it (and the wall). He had no idea where he was or where to go, and my dad and I sat down and decided to take him to the local vet, who had treated Max since he was a puppy, and have him checked out. At the end of our discussion, my dad said that not only was I going to be going to the vet's office alone, but if we were going to put Max to sleep, it had to be my decision.
I took Max to the vet, and the doctor checked him out, and he informed me that Max was fully blind in both eyes and his blood work was showing that his diabetes was out of control. He asked me if I wanted to take him home, or if we should put him to sleep.
I flashed back to Sam, my grandparents' old mutt who lived to be 23, until he developed numerous tumors and skin diseases, and eventually my grandfather took him out into the woods, gave him a hot dog (his favorite food) and then shot him. I knew that if Max was going to go away, I had to be with him. So I told the doctor that we should put Max to sleep; he went away and started preparing the materials, and I began hugging Max and telling him that I loved him and that he was going to feel better soon. I kept on doing that while the doctor made the injection, and as Max's eyes became glassy and then finally closed, I
howled like I've never cried before. I was an unbelievable mess for twenty minutes, just holding Max, crying.
At the time, I was 20 years old.
I finally composed myself, paid the bill (such a horrifying thing to do -- I swiped a Visa to pay for killing my little buddy), and drove home. I kept his collar.
When I walked into the house, my dad was at the computer (which was right by the garage door). I was teary-eyed and holding nothing but Max's collar. He got a little misty and I completely broke down. And in that time, that time when I just needed a hug and an affirming word, my dad said, "If I had known that he was going to get so sick so quickly, we would never have paid so much money for his surgery."
So, no. You are not ridiculous for feeling that attachment. Not one bit. And I say that as I have my cat, Spike, sleeping on my recliner with me as I type.
edit: I still have Max's collar
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