Wednesday, July 17, 2019

Watson L. Dog is sick and I am sad. The soonest vet appointment we could get is for this afternoon. We were on a list to get him in earlier in case of cancellation but the vet called my cell from a different number, and I was on a call with a sales rep. Too late I realized that it might be the vet, and the appointment had been taken.

One of those small moments that can make you feel like a crushing failure of a caregiver.

He's 11 now, and this fear is different than his previous brushes with death because of it. The likelihood of it being something we can't fix increases.

I don't want him to leave me, but Watson is his own dog; he calls no man master. Although he can say "mama."