That Crazy Wagging Tail
For two weeks, we’re on an emotional roller coaster
Bring the kids, it’ll lift her spirits
We’ll have to do the surgery here, since the specialist is on vacation.
She’s okay, she’s doing fine,
She’s taken a turn for the worse. We’re going in again. She is so strong inside, they say her love for us is what pulls her through this second time.
Dr. Blake is with her all the time. A brand-new vet, she’s getting a rough initiation.
You’ll have to bring her to an intensive care facility. We’ve done all we can for her here.
Load her up in the back of the Subaru, Grammy, Bob, E and K.
Meet me at the bridge,
Transfer to my car. Pulling over to see if she’s still alive on that long stretch up Route 3.
Arrive at the
A consultation. It’s a 50-50 chance she’ll survive the surgery. How can I say don’t?
A final good-bye. So weak, she can hardly open her eyes. But I pet her, and that crazy wagging tail slowly lifts and lowers. For the last time.
Fitting that the phone call came as I was standing on top of the cliffs, looking down onto the beach where she so loved to be. Not a surprise, but how do I tell K and E, without crumbling?
Calling K2, so far away in
Do I tell anyone that I was the last one to see her tail wag? Do they want to know that’s how she went? Or will they regret that they weren’t there?
