I’m sorry. I’m just trying to write a book.

My in-law’s dog has been sick since last October and lately it has been getting worse. Now that they are vacationing in Cuba, of course the dog has gotten worse – like some sort of clockwork of depression. It always seems that something like this happens to us. I joke to others about my life playing out like one of those movies and it seems so standard when I recount tales of the past. People tend to agree. Here’s another one for the books.

After staying over night at the animal hospital, Java had not gotten any better and the vet called to inform us as such. Alex called me about his discussion with the doctor. I told him that if she wasn’t in pain but still ill and depressed, then perhaps it would be best if we brought her home. I hate doctors… so if anyone can appreciate how depressed the dog could be feeling at the vet it was me. If she doesn’t get better in the next few days… then her depression and her illness will only get worse…. which wouldn’t be fair.

It has been a long few years when it comes to our furry family. In December 2013 we lost the youngest of the bunch, Luna, who had come to us by following the others home – or perhaps they led her. She was a stray kitten, malnourished, and, whether she followed them or they led her, she came to us. Unfortunately, she had been out on her own untrained for too long and the world had taken its toll on her tiny body. Her system finally gave in and allowed one last breath.

Last September, you will remember, we had to say goodbye to our Jones. One of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make… the last time I was at this vet with a pet was when we said goodbye to Jones… and the last time I was inside of this vet period was when we picked up his ashes.

When we went to pick up Java today, true to my request, and we had to wait will her visit was finalized by the vet techs. I sat down on the bench in between the scale for large animals and the table with the coffee maker and thought about the last time I was there. Like a smack in the face, two customers came into the vet picking up ashes while I waited. Eventually Alex sat down on my left on the side closer to the scale and suddenly looked up right.

He asked me if I ever felt like or had the experience where something reminded me of those who had left. Of course he said it more subtly, but we have a way of understanding each other with so few words that it would take hours to explain how I picked up what he was putting down… so to speak. Thinking he was talking about the ashes I agreed with him, but then he slid to the far left edge of the bench. Knowing how we work as a team, I slid closer to him and closer to the left and followed his gaze. Just behind the counter but in plain sight from the left side of the bench was a big, white, opened box with product flowing out of the top. The company name was in a cursive font coloured dark green, and it read as clear as possible – Jones.


Published by Amy

A Master of the Wizengamot, Amy is the founder and creative entity behind The Power of Mess: a collective of creativity and social media. If she could be any superhero she would be Superman, her favorite holiday is Halloween, she is a collector of Disney pins, and is unbeaten at Harry Potter Scene-it. By day she is a pursuer and smith of words, and by night she is a level 8 Halfling Wizard by the name Azaelia Teagloom (soon to be a novel #Teagloom).

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