A small compass ring kept my focus away from his breathing. It slowed as I watched the vet’s compass ring tell me we were going south. The ring was a darling little piece they had gotten from Etsy. It hugged their index finger as they set up the iv. I hugged Bilbo, my eight-year-old Rottie mix. He was born in my office in Seattle and this weekend he took his last breath on my back porch at our new old house in Connecticut. The same catastrophic neurological problems that took his mom was getting the best of him. The decision sucked and I’m left reeling.
Writes literary fiction with a speculative bent. A parent of teens. Accidental house flipper. Friend of cats and dogs. Kindness matters. ND Bi (she/they)