After my car accident my dad told me that I probably had an inkling, but only an inkling, of how much my parents love me, and lovingly admonished me to take care of myself.
Housemate and her new-glow-hasn't-even-begun-to-wear-off guy took my dog on an outdoor adventure today. I just got a call from some vet's office way off in a different part of the state; somehow the edge of a cross-country ski sliced my dog's leg, and it needs stitches. The vet is concerned about the tendon so my sweet doggie will spend the night in an emergency clinic here in Portland where she can be watched, I guess. I've just gotten this information by cell phone. I don't know very many details.
I now have an inkling of how it feels to know that someone you love and feel responsible for is hurt, and not to know how badly or what you can do to help, and not to be there to give aid and comfort. It stinks.
[Update: the Achilles tendon is ripped or severed, so we need to find a dog orthopedist and get surgery this week.]
You have my sympathy. The gods are not being kind to you in the distribution of random events. I hope things improve, and that your dog heals quickly.
Posted by: A. Rickey | February 16, 2004 at 10:21 PM
In line with the previous comment, I have to say this must be the #3 of the Bad Things Come in Threes. Right?
Best wishes for the pooch's recovery.
Posted by: womanofthelaw | February 17, 2004 at 12:49 PM
Just a comment on the inkling statement. One of the most eyeopening parts of becoming a father was looking at my son the first time and truly understanding how much my parents truly care for me. I found it quite humbling.
Posted by: Bryan | February 17, 2004 at 03:02 PM