Flash

We got back late Saturday night from a ten day Hawaii vacation. Big Island. Shorts & flipflops, snorkeling, reading on the beach.

Monday morning Kent banged on the door at the pet hospital where we board Flash. Here to pick up dog! ... No dog for him to pick up.

Flash died Saturday night or sometime on Sunday. The place is closed Sunday but of course someone comes through to check on the animals. The doctor told Kent that he only found out about Flash late Sunday night.

We have been mourning our dear doggy since. Wish we could've been with her in her last days. Seeing Kent she would have been happy, being home again, she often came to me for comfort when she was nervous.

She was an elderly dog. I've mentioned her breathing problems. Maybe she couldn't breathe, the diagnosis that said she had a frozen larynx, maybe it locked up and she couldn't catch a breath. She had some bad nights like that. Maybe the workers medicated her for it and overmedicated her.

Kent said when the doctor checked her out a few months ago he was surprised by the strength of her lungs and heart. Flash was older than the average dog her size. I remember when Peanuts, the cat I grew up with, was quite old. He got an absessed tooth. It was a simple operation only requiring a local anesthetic so we had the vet remove the tooth and Peanuts regained his lost weight. But within a couple months his weight dropped again. Turned out a tumor had grown under his tongue. The vet, apologetic, said he'd seen no evidence of the tumor when he'd taken out the tooth. Well, you get old. I don't know what ended Flash's life.

She was a sweet girl. We got a nice card from the workers at the pet hospital. That's what they called her, "sweet". She was sweet, gentle, friendly, obedient, pretty.

In her last months I tried not to scold her -- for sneaking into the back yard for a dug up treat of kitty poo (I would wave her away), for tiptoeing upstairs to steal cat food, for raiding the kitchen garbage, things she knew K & I didn't want her doing but when our disapproving superegos weren't in the house, her craving little id led her wet nose. I decided she deserved sneaking a few goodies if I'd been remiss in blocking her access. I could see she was old, getting a little deaf, her eyes slightly clouded, rarely active. But she had a bounce in her even in the week before our travel; I remember taking her some treat from the kitchen and she did her happy dance.

I come home and expect her to be here.

Kent laid her collar and the sympathy card in the corner by the bed where she would hunker down at night. Goodnight, Flashy. Good girl.