Apparently there will be no “right time” to discuss this. Not horrible news first.
I found a cat on the street. Thought she was a kitty but the vet told me she’s almost an adult, just severely underweight. I found her exactly two weeks before Juliet died. She’s had all her shots and tests and is a much healthier weight now. And no, she is not allowed in the same room as the birds. She was quarantined and is getting along with my dog very well and it is super cute.
At some point I will go into how I found her and how adorable she is but right now I am consumed with worry.
My dog may be unwell. This is HungryBird and all but to be honest my dog is everything to me. Simply everything. I love him more than I’ve loved any other pet. By miles. I even love him more than my black GSD, which I feel bad about admitting but now that it’s come down to it I know it’s true.
I don’t know for sure if my dog is sick or not. If he is it could be manageable or he might die. He is only ten years old. The concern is cancer. I’m so unhappy I alternate between crying in public (something I really hate doing) or just walking around like a soulless zombie trying not to cry in public.
So basically I don’t really care about anything else until I find out what’s going on with him. When I adopted him as a teenager we made a pact that he would stick around until I was at least 30. Which means he’s not close to the end of his contract so he’d better stick around.
It may very well not be cancer. He is going to the vet soon. They will most likely remove the little lump either way because it seems to be bothering him. This all happened yesterday. I cried at physical therapy and my body ached more than usual. I cried on the street. I cried on the train. I cried before I left the house and when I came home. And by crying in public I mean tears in the eyes, not actual crying. I’ve only cried in public twice once because I was a dramatic teenager and once because I ran into someone who was dying who I cared about. I saved my dramatic sobbing for the house where I could bury my face in his soft white fluffy fur that always smells good no matter how long it’s been since a bath.
I always thought I’d get a second dog so I would never be without a dog but I don’t feel that way. My mom had to put her dog down suddenly and it stunned our family. Or at least it stunned my mom and myself as we still mourn him. If I hear the worst news possible and he has to be put down soon I don’t feel that I have the heart to get another dog while he is dying. I will resent that dog for being healthy and new and not my dog. So now I’m just lost. He is supposed to live at least another five or six years.
I’m going to give him a bath and a brushing before he goes to the vet. Kind of like making sure I shave my legs before I go to the doctor.