She seemed fine when I saw her today, as if nothing was amiss. She always yaps with joy when I come to see her, which is usually to walk her. Today was a little different.
I was over at my parents’ at about 12:30. My dad was off today. He was teary-eyed throughout the exchange (this is rare), with both of us expanding on how fucking cruel the universe is. Here’s this blameless and loving animal, destined to die within weeks. Meanwhile rat bastard murderers run rampant around the country. If there were a God, he’d be welcome to suck my cock.
Yes. I get it. There’s no cosmic justice. Shit happens. Therein lies the problem, at some philosophical level.
I gathered up a bunch of Nubble’s hair as I scratched her belly, and put it in a Ziploc bag. It will stay with me forever. She was calm and welcoming throughout the entire encounter. I have seen this dog on at least 90 percent of the days since I have been back to New Hampshire–probably more like 95 percent–and feel like I am losing one of my own.
I got my hands on Nubble’s paperwork. Formally, she has histiocytic sarcoma. This, as I remember from my own days of playing doctor, is essentially a death sentence. It implies a disseminated carcinoma that we as lowly humans are incapable of halting, for now anyway. This in all surety popped up in Nubble not only in her spleen but in her liver, and maybe elsewhere. Chemotherapy would be of no use. Palliative measures only. She’ll be gone soon, despite how solid she seemed today.
After I gathered up a good bunch of her hair (easy to do with a retriever in the fall!), I simply said goodbye. I’ll see her again, I am sure, but today was extremely poignant.
More later. I’m so tired.