Wait. This is admittedly a very depressing post. It's meant as a vent and a way to share a reality that we don't always talk about. Please don't don't don't read it if you don't do well with sadness. I'll post something better in a day or two.
Monday, January 12 2:30 pm. The thing that really kills us is that you didn't want to say good-bye to your dog...
... Your overweight senior who took a bullet because you thought it was just fine that she run loose in the neighborhood. The fat toothless dog who you allowed to run free: charging the garbage man, scaring the kids, evading animal control again and again. This once beautiful, cropped blue fawn who was lying in her kennel, grimacing in pain, her wrist pulverized by a bullet. Just steps away from you.
You said you'd had her her whole life; bought her "with papers" some fifteen years ago. A family pet. Whelped you many litters. Her wrist exploded when the bullet smashed through it. The cop had no choice, and we don't blame him. Twenty officers responded to the call. She was good at scaring people away from your home ... You wanted her to do that. They'd always turn and run away. Not today.
She bled like crazy in the animal control truck. Tim carried her inside: she was rattling with pain. He told her he was sorry, that she was a good girl, that she would be okay. Megan rushed to fill her with the drug that would dull the pain. Her eyes were wide with fear. She leaned back and stared Tim in the eye; she kissed him. We thought about her all night; knowing she wouldn't be able to get herself up and pee (she held it - all night, all day). We got there as you were at the counter, arguing your fines. You turned on your heels and stormed off.
She was still grimacing in pain when we saw her again; the corners of her mouth pulled back like she wanted to vomit. We coo-ed to her, tranquilized her. I held her head, rubbed the inside of her left ear while Tim held her vein. Megan slipped the needle in and her blood shot back into the blue juice as it moved into her vein, bringing an end to her fifteen years. We didn't know her name. She left this world hearing us tell her that she was a good girl.