What Did I Do?
Guest post by Donna A. Lewis, a doting aunt and mother to four-legged fur-balls
Just before 5:00 am, three Saturdays ago, my phone rang. I dreaded answering the phone. I knew it was the veterinarian and I knew why she was calling. If Addie had shown any signs of getting better in the five hours since I had left the animal hospital, the vet would have let me sleep. A phone call before her shift ended at 7 am meant that Addie was taking the turn we all feared.
I drove the most horrible mile of my life to date and arrived at the animal hospital fifteen minutes later. Addie was in medical distress that couldn’t be turned around. Even now, after six days of treatment for what might have been pneumonia or a growing cancer or both, Addie’s body just wasn’t fighting back in the critical ways it needed to.
Or, perhaps, Addie’s body was fighting back but no amount of her fighting was enough.
For six days, she had seemed to be trying really hard.
Addie was only 12 pounds and still acted like she was only 12 months old. But, over the course of those horrible 6 days, the veterinarians kept beginning sentences with “Well, if she weren’t 12 years old….”
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