Old Dog took her last ride to the vet yesterday afternoon. She knew where we were going and she knew why we were there. At the end, I don’t think she really wanted to go. She spent the morning walking around as if to say, “Look! I can walk today! I’m just fine!” But the reality is that she had many more bad days than good and it was time to let her go with dignity. It was hard, but my duty to my pet.
M called at 11:49 last night, almost two hours after he knew I would be in bed. Not a few minutes late, but two hours! I go to bed between 10:00 and 10:30 every night. Few exceptions, and he knows that damned well. I need my sleep, and he knows how hard it is for me to get going in the morning if I haven’t had enough sleep.
I was sound asleep when the phone rang and it nearly scared me to death. I jerked up off the pillow and have a nice kink in my neck to show for it. I answered because it could be Mom or Sis calling with an emergency or something. Nope. Just M calling to make sure my mission was successful and to say he’s sorry that I had to deal with the situation. He then told me how he had been out sailing all day, then eating a gourmet meal and drinking and talking with his friends and just then finally had a free moment to call me. I would have been happy to wait to hear about his day at a more reasonable hour, but was too fuzzy to tell him that on the phone.
He made sure to minimize my feelings as I told him the story of my day. When I told him that she didn’t want to go at the end, he pooh-poohed and said that I was mistaken. He wasn’t there. He didn’t pet her ears the way she loved as the struggled against the drug and finally went still.
The connection was bad and he dropped the call twice. Called back twice. Took me two hours to get back to sleep and I find myself full of resentment this morning.
Still hasn’t said when he’ll be back.