Starbuck zoomed out the door this morning, as usual, pausing only to pee before running all over the yard looking to find a squirrel to chase. As usual, while he was busy I used the time looking for where the hell the newspaper person had thrown it this time.
Back inside, I slipped the protective cover off the paper . . . and the front page article and its accompanying photo blurred. And there came that throat-tightening feeling again.
When it comes to something that hurts, people sometimes thoughtlessly say you'll get over it. Not in so many words but that's the gist. Me? I disagree. I figure people learn to live with the pain, or do their best to.
Still, I'm getting caught unexpectedly. Da Kid left for work a few mornings ago and as usual once he was out the door, Starbuck came into the bedroom to sneak into bed with me. ("The Slut" can't sleep alone, and now that his preferred warm body was no longer around, it was my turn.) There was, however, no room between me and the edge of the bed for Starbuck to "sneak" on to, so he started grunting only inches from my face to let me know.
Still half asleep and knowing I could doze for a little while longer, I was comfortable and didn't want to move. So, I mumbled something and motioned with my hand, and as I was drifting back off Starbuck came up on the other side. He's never gone on that side of the bed.
He snuggled real close. That had always been Tank's side, and this was the first time since he's been gone that . . .
A minute or so later I got up, my throat tight and my eyes burning.
The newspaper article that got me going featured a photograph of a man lying on the floor next to his big yellow dog. The headline: A Fighting Chance. [Bugmenot]
I knew immediately what the article was about without having to read any of it. Someone else on the same journey Tank and I had been on, and Dr. LaDue.
Cheeseburger's person will be getting a package in the mail, I'm sure. And next year when Dr. LaDue opens her new facility, both of us will receive invitations.
The plans for the new building include an area for a garden. I doubt it will be very big, but I fairly sure it's intended as a quiet place for people who are worried and frightened, who aren't sure what's going on or what's coming up next. Or often what to do. It'll sure beat pacing the parking lot.
The invitation will be for us who've already been there in memory of our own pets, to help plant something in an area that will hopefully help someone else through.
Thanks for listening.
LATER: gekko writes Of Rainbows and Good Friends, and Beau Jingles.