The news that one of my dogs is sick — and, potentially, very sick — came yesterday just moments before I received an email from someone I’d written about for work and who wanted me to answer for my sins, such as they were. Because of having to be professional and answer that email (and the ones that followed), I found myself not really dealing with the news until later that night when it suddenly struck me that there was a reason I was feeling so sad.
I’ve dealt with sick pets before, and know all too well the feelings of heartbreak, anger and frustration it brings; I’ve said goodbye to too many animals, but also know that sometimes they beat the odds and things go far better than intended. I also, however, know that Gus and Ernie are more than a decade old, and shit happens to animals any age, never mind those more than 10 years old.
The idea of Ernie being sick feels distant and wrong, difficult to properly comprehend. The idea of Ernie not being around at all feels, on every level, wrong, and even worse when I think about how Gus will deal with it. The two of them are a package deal, and the idea of one without the other is just… inconceivable. Or, at least, it should be.
I’m sad, and I’m feeling helpless as I wait for more news from vets and a treatment plan. I miss my little friend, who’s not staying with me right now because shared custody, and I feel like I want to give him a hug. (And his brother, too.)
Sometimes, you just need to put these things out into the world, in the hopes that somehow they might matter.