April 6, 2009

he yelled out like a deer twice




I found him, purple cartoon tongue lolling, and stiff stiff stiff, no wheezing, eyes half open. I put my ear to his chest and it was hard and cavernous. Something timid shifted inside. I laid there, waiting for it again. I said his name until I was convinced.
I think just once, I cried out and then quickly covered my mouth, embarrassed I don't know why. It echoed. There wasn't anyone or anything else around. And I felt what it was to be alone when you are beside your dead dog in an empty room.

No one picked up until I called my father.
"He yelled like a deer. Twice. and I carried him outside and he went."

I couldn't imagine my father taking our dog out to pee at 5am, in the rain, the sun not even up yet. I couldn't imagine my dog crying out in the most animalistic way I've ever heard him behave. The sound. It would just be absorbed in the urban car horns and the brick all around. I can't imagine how soon he felt when it was coming. His warning or his farewell? What it was.
The black towncars would drive slowly by still, no passengers, not knowing. Was anyone woken up from it? Was I dreaming when it happened?
Will I be dreaming when it happens?

Whatever I ate looked and tasted like dirt after that. A grand total of 3 green grapes.

2 comments:

Simone said...

i'm sorry, sable.

TRONMomma said...

my sincerest condolences dear. dogs are so hard to let go of, since they really are the only creatures that love you no matter what, and where else do you find love like that? I'm sorry.