All Dogs Go To Heaven

December 1, 2008 at 4:38 PM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
  I guess it’s better that my sister doesn’t think so, and Detroit *says* it’s not so, but I’m not sure she believes it.  I think she says it to spare me the hurt.  Nevertheless, I feel it is my fault.  I did it.
  I killed my sister’s dog.
  We were trying to get the tile up in the hallway.  Most of it came up, left some residue behind.  A few were pretty tough, all grouped together, and it looked like my dad had put down some extra glue.  I peeled up what I could, and then sprayed some of this adhesive remover down.  And left it.  For several days.
  Next thing we know, Jill is walking crooked and funny, throwing up on the carpet, head wobbling and hanging to one side.  Did I poison her?  Did she lick up some of the citrus-flavored chemical and get sick?  I put it down last Sunday, and was supposed to clean it up the next day, but never did.  The following days:  never did, never did, never did.
  My sister called the city animal control, and they came and got her.  I drove my sister to the place.  They were going to take the dog–she signed it over to them–and euthanize it.  She was crying, I was crying.  In the pound, some other dogs in cages.  All barking.  Some said, "Take me home, take me home!" while others said, "Back off, back off!"  And a few said, "I know what you did!  I know what you did!"
  I had to walk out of the place.  Outside, I stood and cried some more.  Not just for her dog, but for my dog, and my sister, and for what I did.  I couldn’t tell her; Detroit had convinced her, I think, that I didn’t do it.  I want to tell her, and I will, but not now.  Too soon.  Much too soon.
  My thoughts afterwards:  the guy working the place seemed like a decent enough sort.  But how–how can you do that?  How can you work in a place like that?  You become a little desensitized, I imagine.  This from a guy who cut meat for ten years.  I could be a butcher.  What kind of person am I?  I am exactly the kind that thinks cows are much, much different from dogs. 
  And I guess I can see catching strays and what-have you, but what about…when the time comes to fire up the ol’–
  I don’t know if I could do it.  I would end up like that woman in that horrible movie "The Year of The Dog."  Even though I know it has to be done, and animal populations have to be controlled, I don’t know if I could do it.
  As I’ve gotten older, I find that I’m not as hard as I used to be.
  As i got on my blog and checked my stats, I found someone had looked at this link, oddly enough.  About another time, another life, another dog.  The name and reference is from a Led Zeppelin song on their third album.  If you listen to the words, if you can understand them, it’s a love song.  About a dog.
Hear Me Call Your Name
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