My sweet Bullseye passed. He was 15? 16? He had lived with my dad before the seven years he spent with me. It brought up a lot.
It all happened quick – blood work on Monday showed elevated liver enzymes, ultrasound Wednesday showed masses on his liver and spleen, issues with the pancreas, likely lymphoma. He was worse and different every day. The Tuesday after I had him euthanized – no bad days allowed. I brought him home, his ashes, on Friday.
I’ve started my first long piece about this – the timing, the opening of grief about him and my dad, the opportunity his death gave me, the familiarity of the pain, the pain.
And, I’m back on here. Posts forthcoming.