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All over again
By ella | February 12, 2007
Monday
‘Where’s Brax?’ the cleaner asks brightly when she arrives.
‘We buried her this morning,’ I reply glumly, tears pricking at my eyes.
Sunday
I clear away breakfast, watching Brax carefully. She and I have been up since three, seeking comfort in each other as she struggles to breathe. My parents are on their way home. I have already warned them how poorly she is. I know that if her breathing worsens I will have to call the vet before they return.
A few minutes later she is agitated, lying down, sitting up. I go to her, stroke her soft fur, rest her head against my shoulder. She falls forward into my arms. It is instant, painless, eyes open. Her body relaxes, reflex breaths come intermittently. It is silent in the room as my tears drop onto her fur.
And so now I begin grieving all over again.
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Read More:
- End stage
- Massive dose of anaesthetic
- In which the grief is compounded
- Where nothing ever good happens
- Enjoying these days
Categories: All Gone Wrong, Dog Days
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