The Grief

I took my dog to the vet this morning.

I have a huge list of things I want to have done before I go in for surgery, so I don't have to worry about them. One was getting the dog her shots and having her nails trimmed. I usually do it in September, but I didn't think it would hurt if it were a little early.

The vet's office was jam packed. One vet on duty, so it was slow. There was a woman who was sitting next to me. She didn't have a pet in her lap or at her feet like the rest of us. Forties, blonde, trim. She sat erect, waiting for someone to come out of the door with her pet or give her some news.

The vet came out and waved her over. I didn't hear the conversation, just watched, as I stroked my dog's chest to keep her calm. She put her hand over her mouth, he put his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, he squeezed her shoulder and disappeared. And there she stood, in the little corner between the door to the exam room and the door to the outside with her hand to her forehead and cried. Much of the time she tried not to cry. Quiet and composed for the most part, she was sobbing inside, I could tell. No where to sit, no where to be alone. A few minutes later and they ushered her inside. Then a half an hour later, she came out again, empty handed, puffy and paid her bill.

I could feel for this woman and her unidentified pet. In fact, it didn't matter what it was in that room that was leaving her, but she felt it go and made the decision that it was best and it broke my heart. I could feel for her and the loss of her animal - and here I am, four weeks away from my operation and I still can't feel much at all about it.

I'm trying though.

Any questions or feedback? Feel free to email me.

Posted by Elizabeth M. on July 10, 2004 11:29 AM