a butterfly flapped its wings

Today because

I left my car lights on yesterday and bitched at my kids to turn them off, but didn’t do it myself –

and my battery died –

and Ralph said he’d charge my car up, but he didn’t.

I found myself this morning in a rainstorm in a dead car, dressed to run, with a dog who wanted to go go go

so instead of running on the track while my faithful dog would wait for me in the car, then we’d take a walk in the field after, then we’d come home and I’d feed and water him and scritch him maybe –


Instead, Hutch & I went for a run on the railroad tracks. He was The Happiest Dog of All Time, trotting ahead then behind, casting back to look at me then galloping to catch up with me.

He cut his foot sometime in the short moments right before I let him off leash. I saw a little bright blood while I ran my mile. I thought, Gotta look into this. He didn’t even notice it.

We get home and he’s not bleeding too bad, gonna call a vet in a bit –

About a half hour after we get home he does some messing with his foot and then it’s bleeding like profuse, ropy, bright clean red blood bleeding and we wrap it tight enough and call the vet.

So at two PM, a little over two hours after the injury he’s admitted for an emergency surgery. They tell me they need to suture and give me a big list of costs and procedures and it’s in the $500 range and we can’t afford it but of course we’ll figure it out. It’s a huge, deep, but very clean cut. The vet says it’s good we got in so quickly and I’m just so grateful we have him where they can care for him.

And they take my dog and he disappears around the corner and I see his tail held half-mast and I feel a pang. I think, that’s my drama for today, stiff upper lip, and I’m upset because my dog is in a little pain but mostly he’s somewhere away from us with smells he might like, etc.

So then I wait for the call to pick him up.

The doctor calls and things don’t sound right. You know where a conversation gets worse and worse but you keep feeling optimistic and like you’re the last one to get the “joke”. She tells me Hutch had an adverse reaction to the medicine, he doesn’t wake up right. She tells me in fifteen years she’s never seen it, she is worried. She tells me he cannot come home and she cannot make promises.

I start asking questions and she answers them but it keeps coming down to how she can’t make promises. “Is this the sort of thing he’s definitely going to recover from, or something he might never recover from?” and there is no answer, and I feel that spiral into that dark place I’ve visited before. And I watch my son and daughter swim as I wait for the phone, and for instruction, but I can’t really see anything either.


I am home now a little after 11 PM. Hutch is in for overnight monitoring in a 24-hour veterinary facility in Tacoma. His prognosis looks better as he’d seemingly retained sight by the time we got there. My friend A. accompanied me on the 3+ hour roadtrip to the vet. A.’s presence was necessary for the safety of animal transport, but also necessary for my sanity. She was good company and kept me from having a breakdown. I am so grateful for her help.

I am not angry or scared I am just so sad for my little guy. I left my favorite hat there for him to sleep with. He had been blind, or appeared blind, when I picked him up in Aberdeen for transport – but he recognized my car (by smell probably) and eagerly leapt in, despite having trouble walking. He wanted to be in that car. So now I hope my hat can comfort him in a world of bad smells and bad feelings and possibly neurological damage which could possibly last a while.

All medical staff involved seemed caring and straightforward, and even extremely generous and kind in ways I’d like to write out here – but, my brain got overloaded today and I kind of can’t figure out what all happened.

Many people, especially on Twitter, sent warm loving wishes. I am so grateful for the TLC and wish I wasn’t having a mental fall-apart. But you know, that stuff happens.

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