Tuesday, February 23, 2010



The blood work came out negative. There was nothing wrong with Little Fips, except his seizures could not be controlled. Now we knew what we had understood before.

~0O0~

I carried him down the hallway on his stretcher to the truck where I laid him out on the front seat, and made him comfortable, breathing but lifeless.

I sat down next to him and stroked his smooth fuzzy body, patting his haunchies, as his chest undulated with even breaths ...and as I stroked his beautiful head.

I spoke to him softly through the torpor and told him he was the "Best Little Doggie in the Whole Wide World"

Then, with throaty-murmurs, Fips began to quiver and suddenly lifted himself up ...

... and turned his head to give me one last kiss. As I bent down to kiss his nose, I looked into his eyes and next I knew his head fell back and he slid away from my arm.

The murmuring stopped and Fips lay down staring into his darkness.

~oOo~

The elixir was pressed into his body. Fips let out a low whine -- as if in protest -- and then it was silent.


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