No big shocker.

Real entry soon enough – busy busy.

How often I’ve cursed and how, behind the cut.

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We put Lacy down last weekend after she tried to squat but ended up falling backwards onto her own intestinage. It was no longer worth dealing with her bowel accidents and arthritis. The anger from having mopped her rear end got me into the vet’s office adequately, but there was a moment during Lacy’s anxious response to the doctor’s hands on her legs when I reacted with the panic I knew she wasn’t smart enough to feel.

I was asked if I wanted to leave the room – was encouraged, even, just in case I was feeling obligated – but it was something that I didn’t want to have muffled or taken care of, for me. A part of me spoke out louder than usual, insisting I be brave and pretend I’d actually grown up, for once in my life.


Pink liquid was shot into her and the panting slowed to a complete, silent stop within thirty seconds. After living together for fourteen years, we ended her life and she is never coming back.