That’s a crappy camphone picture of my pal, Pepper, taken ten hours ago. He didn’t want to eat, so I couldn’t give him a treat. He was too frail to play, so that was out. He was too blind to enjoy a last walk through his yard, so I let him stay inside.
In the end, all he wanted was to drape himself across my foot and sleep. So I sat there, enjoyed his presence, and let him doze for a while.
He’s gone now, and I’m not sure how long it will take for that to sink in. On the way out of the vet’s examining room, after the injection and the good-byes, I glanced back at him on the table and had to fight the urge to run over and grab him… he’s old and blind, you see, and he might fall off and hurt himself.
I want to keep protecting the little guy, even though there’s nothing left to protect. Responsibility and love are habits, and I’m apparently an addict who is facing some seriously fucked-up withdrawals.
I’m going to stop now, since the more I write, the more I want to throw up.