...not to tell kid stories because face it, no one thinks they're cute but me. But keeping in mind I have THREE of them, and I'm reliving every decade of my life every decade? This place is just a zoo.
My dog died last month, and it's still strange without him. We got him the summer The Not Nice Kid was born...a fat little blonde teddy bear. Goofy. When he died, it was ten times worse because...and I haven't told this for a reason because if this kid dies in the next ten years? They'll lock my ass up. The Evil Neighbor Child From Hell, the one who set the woods next to my house on fire last Thanksgiving and who methodically, over a period of weeks, smashed all the pottery I brought back from Texas/Mexico? Stood on the side of the road and threw sticks into the road, for my dog to fetch, until Nick ran out in front of a car. Nick didn't get out much, arthritis and a penchant for hating the people across the street, so I'm sure he was elated to be ripping and romping so. I hope so...it makes it easier to think he was having fun.
Someone put him into her car and brought him up here...it took three of us to haul his fat ass into the back seat of MY car to take him to the vet. I drove...I wish I'd sat in the back and held him. When we got there, they immediately sedated him because he was in shock. Said they'd x-ray and let me know. We came home, got dressed for wherever it was we were supposed to be going, and then went back to the vet.
The x-rays were frightful. His pelvis was fractured. To repair it, his good leg would have been the leg that was about to go out with arthritis. Six weeks immobile. Never able to run again.
The vet and I stood there and I cried, and when I asked he assured me if Nick were his, he wouldn't put him through the pain. I called the girls in and we looked at the x-rays together, and the vet explained again. We cried while we decided that the right thing to do wasn't the easy thing to do.
And they brought him in, and I held his head while the doctor injected him, and he died. The girls and I rubbed his neck, and cried. We took his collar off and brought it home.
I still cry every day: When I don't have to make sure he's in the house when I leave, or when I get out of bed and step over him and he's not there so I bust my ass.
Okay...THEN. After Nick stopped breathing, I asked the vet what my options were for taking care of him. One...I take him home and bury him. The dog had been on a diet for a year and was DOWN to 100 pounds. We are talking BIG hole. We have a lovely farm and lots of great places for him to rest but...BIG hole/RIGHT now. Called my brother, who was out of town. Nix One.
Two...the vet puts all the dead animals in his freezer and when he has enough, a backhoe buries them all. This is the point at which my kids lost their shit. Nix Two.
Three...cremation. Lovely thought, I have it in mind for myself. Cremation it is...what do I do? I PAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS to have Lard Ass's remains cremated! Turns out? By the pound. OMG. But I have his ashes (or, having been spooked by the freaky-ass people in North Georgia last year, I have SOMETHING) in a plastic box in a bag. We're going to bury half the ashes when we plant a magnolia tree at my parent's Easter, and we're going to spread the other half in the mud pond at the branch. This is a good thing.
All of which brings us to...The Not Nice Kid. Who, thankfully, is the youngest of my children and hopefully will never be responsible for my welfare.
The Big Boy's uncle has been in poor health in a veteran's hospital for several years. My father-in-law is responsible for the uncle's care. Call last week, Uncle A's heart stopped beating and he's been air-lifted to Vanderbilt. Turns out, his slow heartbeat got...really slow. Next day, happened again. So they're going to put in a pacemaker but...no point. It won't improve quality of life and there's doubt Uncle A can tolerate either the surgery or maintaining the device. So he's going to be stabilized and sent back to his long-term care facility.
I was repeating this story for my mother. Explaining about the Alzheimers and physical ailments and such. And TNNK stood there, listened to our discussion and then said, "Are they going to put him to sleep?"
This is SOOOO not in my job description. Or my plan. Neither of which exist but Y'ALL!!! What the hell??
Are they going to put him to sleep?