…in the punchbowl


In search of catharsis

Filed under: past — Matt @ 20:38

Or something akin to it. As I type, my doomed pug dog sleeps at my feet. Phoebe’s liver is failing, and we have to put her down tomorrow. She’s been sick for a while, but everything looked to be treatable until she started to bloat a little and we saw the vet today.

As hard as its going to be tomorrow, the hardest part happened tonight: breaking the news to the four-year-old boy. As usual, he showed a depth of understanding that amazed us. But it doesn’t take away the sting of breaking your child’s heart, of pulling away however small a piece of his childhood.

And of course, history is repeating itself a bit. I was four when our old pug, Timmy, had to be put down. I guess I’m fortunate in that we have a vet we can get to in a reasonable about of travel time. When Timmy started to go, the nearest vet was over an hour away. This resulting in my father having to re-enact part of Old Yeller (mercifully I was not a witness to that little piece of theater).

I suppose I can look on it as a chance for our angel daughters to play with their doggie…


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