November 4, 2009 Part Three

If you haven't read the previous two posts, please scroll down and read those first.

So there we are in the waiting room. Waiting. Waiting for Putter to have the catheter inserted so that we can provide him relief from the pain and discomfort he is experiencing. It is truly an awe-inspiring moment, not necessarily in a good way, but not entirely bad. It was a time of reflection and thought, of questioning faith and judgement, of uncertainty.

In this emergency veterinary hospital waiting room they have a flat screen tv on the wall. A welcome addition to drown out the thoughts that must be racing through anyone's mind who is unfortunate enough to need such service. The unfortunate part, was that the tv was on the Independent Film Channel. No offense to independent film makers, however, in the midst of such an emotional time the last thing I really want to try to divert my multiplying thoughts is a subtitled asian ninja movie. And yet, the circumstances of life would not allow me otherwise. I saw the remote. I vainly tried to change the channel. Some dynamic level of engineering not clearly posessed by me at the moment (or anytime for that matter) was needed because the station would not change. And, as I gently layed down the remote and tried to unsuccesfully settle myself in a wicker chair abounding with fluffy pillows, my back to the subtitles, I hear screaming. Horrible, terror-stricken, dramtic, Emmy-award winning screams emanating from the black box on the wall. 'What on earth IS this' my thoughts relinquished me to wonder. And as I looked I see clearly the climax of the movie where one young ninja-type character certainly most nobely chooses to end his own life by thrusting his sword through his own chest, thus releasing screams of agony from what could be presumed to be his true love, who promises that now 'he can return home' (thank you subtitles). Not what I needed at them moment.

So, as I try and release that tortured moment from my already tear-stained face, the other gentleman patiently awaiting news on his dear pet returns from wherever he was. I am assuming he needed to get away from me because I have to admit, the snorting and snuffling and nose blowing would've made me gag if I wasn't the one doing it. He comes in and checks in at the desk, and suddenly I hear music. The kind of music from a carefully selected ringtone probably assigned to a very important person. Such an important person who is calling to check up on this man and his beloved pet. And the song on his cell phone?

Oh Danny Boy...

the pipes the pipes are calling...

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the possible significance to this situation....

And as we stayed with our beloved friend in his final moments, which were indescribably full of peace, serenity, and a deep sense that this was exactly what should be happening at this moment, he rested on a soft cot, with a cushiony blanket, as if someone knew he was coming and this would just be the perfect place for him.

The moon relented on the way home, and allowed us to enjoy the black night. It was tough to see the empty bed, to bring in the collar, to retire the leash. It was sad to wake up to a house one body quieter than it was the previous morning. I'm sure there will be a few more sad times, as I can not erase the vision of my friend beyond rest as we tearfully closed the door both physically and metaphorically on a life whose true purpose in this world hasn't even been fully understood though I am sure it was completed.

We love you Putter. We did, we do, we always will.