Why do I cry?

Why do I cry, and seem like a bitch on this day: January 9, 2013?  Let me tell you.  I don’t even know where to begin.  I cry because at 9 days in, it’s been a horrible year, and I can’t wait for it to be over.  Nine days in.  I cry because I come home from work, and I take my dogs out.  I have to take my dogs out one by one, because they can no longer be together, despite the fact that they are the best of friends.  I cry when I take the first one out because he has no idea of the heartache and loss he will soon feel; it will blindside him, and my heart aches for him.  I cry when I take the second one out because it is due to her actions that she is quarantined.  It is because we were all sitting on the floor Friday night, and at 6:48 pm she decided to lunge and bite my daughter on the head, for no apparent reason.  My world stopped at that very moment.  I cry because while she has to be quarantined, since she is ours, and bit our daughter, we at least get to keep her for the 10 days that she is stuck in this hell.  I cry because the moment he heard what happened, my husband condemned her to death.  I cry because she is so vibrant, and full of life, and I have a week left with her, and she has no idea what is about to hit her, and it’s all at our own hands, and it was all so random, so out of character.  I cry because my daughter so desperately wants to play with her puppies, and I cannot let her, despite the fact that she reaches out and joyfully screams for them.  I cry because today was my 30 birthday, and while I feared 30 would be horrible, I had no idea how horrible it would be.  Not only have I been trying to get through day to day without making a scene, I then have to deal with this.  I wake up next to my husband, no words.  I am dropped off at work, no words.  I greet him, and take him to work a few hours later, no words.  At 1:13 in the afternoon, I get a call, “I forgot to tell you something important this morning,” he says.  “I know,” I say, almost at the verge of tears, but I am at work, so I fight it off.  After some conversation these exact words come out of his mouth, “I didn't realize it was today until a little bit ago.”  My own husband.  The man I married.  I got a Happy Birthday from 1 friend, 1 parent, 1 sibling, and eventually 1 husband.  Because my year has not already been rough enough, I get to sit at home, forgotten by those who would be hurt should the same happen to them, with my dog who is on death row, my dog who is being punished for something he didn't do, and my daughter, who has no ideas about the cruel world she lives in.  So yes, I cry.  Yes, I was a bitch today.  No, I don’t care.  No, I don’t want anyone to make it up to me.  There is no making it up.  Just leave me alone at this point, and let me cry.