The vet has not given up. He will be coming home tonight rehydrated, the poppy’s blessed gift in his veins, in a bottle of pills for later. No betrayed look as he was led into the vet’s back room. We’d sat on the floor together, the doctor talking about humps and getting past them, and yet the final subject came up, was spoken at last. She can refer us to someone who will come to the house, when it is time.
All the walks delayed, all the impatient shoves when he blocked the hall, all the times I averted my eyes from his as I slipped out the front door, sometimes for days. He would not sleep for the first two days I was gone. He would wait for me by the front window. Opportunities lost.
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