Weep

The year dear Callie - my best cat ever - fell victim to cancer, she had lived 18 wonderful years as queen of our house, for sweetly did that calico rule our hearts. I’d realized too late her decline, so she couldn’t be saved. Selfishly I did not want to let her go, so for several months I was giving her pain killers, but I could tell they didn’t work well, for she wailed sometimes at night or would vanish underneath our bed. We knew this couldn’t go on, so we took her to the vet’s. As she was being put to sleep, all I could do was hold her little paw and stroke her head and weep. Some years later, we adopted a black cat with green eyes with fur so exceedingly soft that I felt I was stroking beauty. Though not too affectionate like Callie, she was sweet and refined. We never knew her age, and possibly she was old when diabetes sadly claimed her. A remedy I found online which seemed to help her, yet she remained only half her previously hefty size. Her distance from us she began to keep. Later she convulsed; it seemed she’d had a stroke. While the vet administered the injection to put her to sleep, I petted that fur which once had felt as smooth as velvet, and all I could do was weep. At last my husband found a cute puppy part Australian Shepherd, a breed of dog he has always liked. For his chocolate and caramel markings, I named him Snickers. For seven years Snickers has been with us, even on a few road trips. Two months ago he developed a reverse sneeze for which the vet told us to give him Benadryl. A month later he began making different kinds of unusual noises, sometimes almost seeming to choke; this greatly concerned us. We had no choice but to use an urgent care center where we were told his vitals were very good and antibiotics should do the trick. A month later his strange sounds and breathing persisted. My husband was getting ready to take him somewhere for a more thorough exam while I went away for vacation with family. Yesterday I received some shocking news. My spouse walked into a kitchen spattered with blood. Our poor dog was sneezing and coughing up blood. Somehow my spouse managed to get our dog into the office of our regular veterinarian. I waited nervously for news, but the dog needed tests at a better facility farther away. More waiting! Finally I got the call that a tumor was discovered in one of Snickers’ nostrils. It’s likely he has nasal cancer, which is rare. As I sit here relating this sad news, my mind goes back to the night before I left on my trip and how I recall looking into the big brown eyes of my loving dog as he lay there simply staring at me, not even making a sound. I thought he was getting better! Thoughts swirl in my mind. Will they be able to remove the tumor? Is it malignant? Usually such tumors are. For his breed, our dog is almost old. How will my husband deal with something for which we will have no real answers until a week from now? On the phone last night with my husband, I could hear tears in his voice. I fear a third dear pet of ours will need to be put to sleep. Oh the heartbreak in my husband’s voice as he tried so hard not to weep. Nov. 24, 2021 For the “W” New Poems contest of Constance La France Theme 5: weep