A Dog Year

Did you ever have a dog that was prancing on a hike in serpentine hills one day and gone, forever, the next?

Did you adopt a dog from a room full of dogs, a cacophony of howling a few years before, when you saw her sitting quietly on her own?

Did you mask up grudgingly?

Did you hear that the death toll was like a nine-eleven every day?

Did you ask for some time to be alone with her still warm body?

Did you expect a time of such loss?

Did you carry her ashes to the beach where she used to run and spread them in the wind and as they settled on the sand, say you were sorry?

Did you go into the vet’s office afterwards because pandemic rules could be bent at a moment like this?

Did you stand in the parking lot in the cold for five creeping minutes until he came out and saw you and shook his head?

Did you ask the nice woman who makes the appointments if she thought you should call your son at work and let him know?

Did you kick yourself later for your passivity?

Did you watch the vandals do their hateful work on the news and take her out for a walk to dull your disgust?

Did you follow the nice woman’s advice when she said softly yes, you should?

Did you flinch when the vet told you there was so much blood, the abdomen was drum tight?

Did you find out that she must have had a tumor, which ruptured overnight?

Did you rush her to the animal hospital?

Did you finally react in the morning when she collapsed, legs buckling back then front against the hardwood floor in clumsy surrender to gravity?

Did you question your priorities?

Did you follow the rules to flatten the curve?

Did you notice her labored breath the night before but tell yourself she would be okay?

Did you doom scroll?

Did you take her to the woods and the beach and the park by the bay when the city went quiet for months?

Did you fill out a pet cremation form and pay for it with your debit card and was it was strange that you remembered your PIN?

Did you wish you had not heard that final detail?

Did you pet her anyway to say goodbye in the roaring silence of the antiseptic room?

Did you tell her she was a good girl?

Did you listen for the night sirens?

Did you screech into the lot and call the vet on the phone because it was Covid time and you weren’t supposed to go inside?

Did you join the protests but leave her at home because the crowds would be too much?

Did you imagine the lockdown would last?

Did you grieve for them as you grieved for her and if not, why not?

Did you say no, please don’t, I think she’s dying, when they tried to put you on hold?

Did you pick her up whispering apologies and gently lay her down on the back seat?

Did you comfort a friend whose elderly father had faded away?

Did you treasure her company?

Did you carry her to the car and in your hurry drop her nearly dead weight to the ground as you tried with one hand to open the rear door?

Did you ever have a dog that was prancing on a hike in serpentine hills?

Did you?