Short lives: too short…

What a fucking awful couple of days. Last night, after repeatedly putting little Princess back on her side of the fence and finally thinking I had an idea of how she was escaping, she got out one more time and was crushed beneath the wheels of a car backing out of my driveway. When I heard what had happened I scooped her up and took her to the emergency vet but it was for naught. My truck, my arms, my shoes were drenched in blood and brains and the loss was just too much. Doc said there was too little left to resucitate her. Haven’t been able to contact Rich yet and it’s his doggy and I was supposed to see to her well being. Big fail.

And then this morning I got the call from the vet that Ringo, who had been rallying from his latest ailment had taken a turn for the worse. They had him on morphine and said he was feeling no pain but that it was time for him to make his exit. J, who is out of town, had already recieved the news and asked me to go and be with him. But the vet said he wouldn’t know if I was there or not and, still finding puddles of blood to clean up I agreed to stay home. That lasted about three minutes and I drove down to the vet anyway. He’d already passed when I got there but I gave his nosie a stroke or two and scritched his chin like he always liked. Pointless gesture I suppose but it was necessary to lay on hands, so to speak, for my own wisp of comfort in this dreadful circumstance.

Judy’s due back Friday, then the whole mob arrives later for last BM-prep weekend and I’ll have lots to do. But I know that in spite of all the love coming my way there’ll be a couple of empty spots in the pit of my being.