Thumping Tail

On her way home from work, Herself drives by the small building that houses the veterinarian to whom she has taken all of the dogs.  She sometimes feels a bit as the dogs must feel about that building: it's a place where one doesn't always know whether entering the door is for a quick visit, or for a lengthy stay, a more dire situation. It's a little frightening, no matter how kind the people are there.

This afternoon on the way past, she saw two people in front of the building with a makeshift stretcher made out of a blanket, a large and clearly immobile dog tucked inside. Alas. That cannot be good.

As she offered up her thoughts for them, her mind stretched back to the day -- nearly a year ago now -- when she and Beloved Husband brought ancient and decrepit dog to the building to send her over the bridge.  Brave old dog, she had been looking off into the distance, hearing things that no one else could hear, seeing things that no one else could see.  Perhaps it was ottoman-shaped dog calling her home.  She was ready.

Beloved Daisy. If you can, watch over that dog in the stretcher -- he or she might need a guardian angel, or a warm welcome into the beyond.

If I listen closely, I can almost hear your giant wagging tail thumping.  You are missed, sweet girl. Thank you for your time with us.