the thin line between optimism and delusion…

Yesterday, I noticed tha Briscoe’s eye lashes were matted. But her eye didn’t look red, and it didn’t seem to be bothering her, so I decided it was probably just dust or allergies.

This morning her eye was much more matted, and upon closer inspection, swollen. So I called the vet to make sure they were open and to expect the fluffy puff shortly.

When I picked up her leash, Briscoe looked at me like a kid on Christmas morning and bolted for the door. She was so pumped. Once we got in the car she stuck her head out the window and soaked up the crisp autumn air. When we pulled up to the vet’s office, she started crying.

I took her inside, and stood at the counter. The girl behind the desk looked at me and said, ‘Just a minute,’ and looked behind me at a woman standing behind me.

The woman said, ‘I’m here to get Lucky.’

For some reason at 9 am this morning, the fact that this adult woman stated that she was at the vet to get Lucky struck me as absolutely hysterical. I almost lost it.

Then the girl handed her a box. Lucky was her deceased dog, who had been cremated and she was here to pick up his ashes. I was immediately not amused anymore.

Then I looked on the desk, and there was an identical box, but where the other said Lucky, this one said Justice. My mind heard, ‘I’m here for Justice!’

My heart heard that there is no Justice and nothing Lucky about the fact that our dogs won’t live as long as we do.

When they took Briscoe back and I had to leave she tried to leave with me and didn’t understand why I was abandoning her at such a scary place.

I’m trying to make it up to her. She doesn’t seem much worse for the wear.