...A remark made yesterday by Sophie as we drove north on I-25 between Denver and Ft Collins.
It seems that one of the RV’s tires was suddenly losing its tread at around 60mph, and just when we were making good time, too.
“Just had to take this thing off-road and off-grid one last time didn’tcha,” she said. Now we’re broken down and broke and I’m stuck in a truck stop with a smelly SOB.”
Thank goodness we’re near friends, not far from the Sam’s Club where everyone loves Sophie. In fact I’m pretty sure Sophie is the reason they even remember me.
But that’s okay-we need a tire change and if Sophie’s irresistible face means she can pull a few strings to make it happen then so be it. Nobody needs to know I almost thought I’d have to put her down three times since they last saw her:
Once for a urinary tract problem I thought was an incurable infection. But it turned out to be an obstruction and she’s being treated for it now. She’s clearly much happier now that she can whiz at her usual strength and duration, which was pretty big news in our house.
Another time I thought she was a goner because she lost the ability to walk through Walmart with me. The day before she was flying high on her painkillers, thinking she was still a spry puppy dog. I was enjoying our walk, thinking of how it was a little like our good ol’ days.
Then Wham! A ground squirrel popped out of the bushes ahead and Sophie was off and running before I could stop her. “Gentle!” I shouted, as if it mattered. She probably knew the damned thing was there long before it popped out of the bushes. A few strides later Sophie seemed to hit an invisible brick wall and that was that.
Dr. Lisa, four hours away in Cañon City was gracious enough to squeeze us in for an emergency visit the next morning. In fact, everybody who helped us get on our way to see Dr. Lisa the previous day was gracious:
From Kari in DCMH’s Wound Care department who understood the urgency of the situation to Kathy, the ER nurse who drove Sophie and I across the parking lot after Sophie’s legs refused to go any further. The sheriff’s deputy even expressed his regrets at being unable to use his unmarked police car “I don’t think she’ll fit with the cage back there,” he said.
No matter, “I’m a dog lover, too,” they each said. And it made me feel good, for Sophie always brings out the best in people just by being her quiet, pretty lil’ self.
Three or four X-rays and one strategically placed cortisone shot at Dr. Lisa’s and Sophie was pronounced good to go again. Which was exactly what Sophie did in spades later, in the Walmart parking lot.
I was a couple hundred bucks lighter for the repair bill but what the hell; we’ll just have to live in our van down by the river until next month, when Uncle Sam again graces my checking account with a little love. Ah, the beauty of the American social safety net.
Finally, the third time I thought Sophie was a goner was - and still is - just because. I love her so much, more than any person I’ve ever known. But I can no longer stand the mind game that thinking I’ve lost her, then not losing her, then thinking I’ve lost her again only to yet again involves.
Three times I’ve hugged her and cried and cried, thinking I was losing the Gibraltar upon which all of my codependency is anchored. She knows I can’t live without her and, even if she can’t walk she wants to be there for me
I need to get some shopping done which means we were going to Sam’s anyway.
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