The line was drawn, and he stepped over it. That line, my dears, was the boarderline of death.
Cancer had consumed my dog around two months before. Give or take. They had him on steroids for the first month, and they worked like a charm. After that, things became worse. More steroids would mean more side effects, and that could turn out to be deadly. They kept him on medication, trying to ease the pain and slow death's pace.
Tuesday brought tears. Rain inside my eyes, a hurricane inside my head.
Around dinner, we drove for an hour or so to the emergency vet clinic. He wouldn't make it until Friday—his appointment. We knew it had to be done, but death is a sad thing. He was put down on Tuesday.
Flashbacks cloud my mind and vision. I see him walking and hear his whine. His still lingers inside me. He never left. He lives on.
R.I.P. Biscuit.
Yes, I am making a big deal out of this.
Got it?
 S K E T C H xx · Thu Jul 12, 2007 @ 08:31pm · 0 Comments |
