The dog went smoothly this morning, and I kept her distracted so she had no idea what was happening - thanks to all the treats I kept pulling from my pockets, she thought it was Christmas, and continued wolfing food from my hand even when the needle was in. The last mouthful she ate, about 1 or 2 seconds before passing out, was her all time favourite, a liver muffin from the neighbour across the road.
I'm gutted of course, yet full of love and admiration for her character and physical grace. Half Australian collie, she was tough, stoical and eager to cooperate. She loved adults but considered children a waste of space.
She wasn't interested in starting fights, but if another dog or three wanted trouble, she was merciless.
A couple of hours after she died, the mother outlaw across the water was all prepared for her fifth operation, not realising it had been cancelled because the previous patient took too long. Nobody thought to inform her until late in the day. The dog had the more humane treatment.
These nights I'm waking about 2 a.m., and having to get up and do yoga, but there are worse ways to live. I haven't eaten for days, but that'll change now. The mother outlaw hasn't eaten in 4 months, and that's unlikely to change if you ask me. Dearie me! The dog's had the best deal.
Suddenly, the TV seems full of dogs. Even Bullitt The Dog is back in episode 5 of Ra Scheme. He has a better life than any of the schemies.
By my next post I hope to be happy as Larry - could not be happier.
- iPhone post