As long-time readers know, if I “go dark” right in the middle of a narrative, it’s a bad attack of RealLife. This was; again. And, it was onto someone who does not deserve it: God, the Fates… someone resents tf out of our naming our eldest dog Lucky Star. At eight years old diagnosed with sarcoma; two nasal surgeries followed by radiation.
Now, less than six months later, his breathing becomes labored. A week later, he is weak on his front legs. Monday, he cannot walk. Vet consult to consult to consult: I shan’t bore you with details. It might be a slipped cervical disc in his neck. Anesthesia for an MRI/surgery has a good chance of killing him due to his congestive heart disease. For now, we’re throwing prednisone at the wall and hoping it sticks.
After eight hours in the vet ER Tuesday, I’m not really in the creative mode. Fortunately, after my Lenten Exercises, it’s difficult to stop. I was able to put together what’s below the fold over two days. I’ve a quarter-page of hand-written notes about how to wrap up Part One. My wife and girls are off to a major, but local, swim meet this weekend; we three old, dying, dogs shall sit about the house and eye one another. I’ll type, too. I appreciate everyone for putting up with me. I’ll do better, soon.
machciv 