September 19, 2021

3 thoughts on “Upon First Looking — Really <i>Looking</i> — at My Newly-Paralyzed Dog’s Anus

  1. 1) Find a better vet. I imagine LA must have many offering tea-tree-healing-crystal IV infusions and diamond nail buffing. That’s not your game. You need the kind of place Raymond Chandler described as “the little seedy offices where a business goes to die”, overseen by Orson Welles in “The Trial”. He heals by pure force of disillusion and a steadfast refusal to forsake kindness. Afterwards, he’ll drink with you. THAT is what you need.

    2) That terrible void that comes with realizing a pet–your stupid furry friend–has something wrong with him is a great mortal terror. You deal with it with a fortitude inspiring to us all. That and the ice cube bit. I would do it, too. I would do anything for my stupid furry friend.

    3) To come out the other side with your friend must be what sustained Anne Frank. More than innocence, it is the company, your shared joke of having cheated death, that makes the days after fuller, even if they also make clear they won’t go on forever.

    Gordon may no longer be able to hatch his plan to dominate us all, but he can poop on his own. Accumulate small wins. Not all piles are horrible.

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