Man's Best Friend

A few days later, Scott and I are enjoying a leisurely Saturday morning of scrapple, coffee and errands before heading to his house to perhaps take his boat out for its maiden voyage of the season. We have a few essential things to accomplish and then some extra "nice to have dones" like the purchase of a fragrant plant to make the boat bathroom smell less like a boat bathroom.

We are half way through the list when his younger daughter calls. Buddy has had a seizure. She thinks he's dead. Or maybe not completely dead, but close. Definitely dying. Or at least headed in that general direction, for sure. Not good, at a minimum.

Wow. That's a surefire way to derail a weekend. Suddenly such enormous decisions like "Rosemary plant or Eucalyptus wreath?" are immaterial, and decisions like whether to grill or dine out are as pathetic as they should be.

Scott is a wreck. He calls his vet. We can get an appointment that afternoon. We scramble to finish what must get done at my house so we can head to his house. God only knows what awaits us.

Scott and I travel in separate cars - for logistical reasons born of the distance between our homes and the locations of the jobs we'll travel to on Monday morning. It is awful not to hold his hand in the car as his thoughts race, but we talk for the duration of the trip thanks to the magic of cell phones and bluetooth technology.

Scott is hopeful that we'll get to his house and find Buddy frolicking with Snoopy and Charlie - having rebounded from his episode to his prior form. Restored to youth. Howling as usual. How we re greeted will tell us everything. The dogs typically hear us or smell us coming and are leaping and barking at the big picture window at the front of the house.

Scott parks. I park. We get out of our cars. No dogs.

OMG they are gathered around the carcass mourning the loss of their fallen comrade!

No, there must have been a box of Krimpets within leaping distance to distract them. As we walk up the drive, they appear, all three of them, bouncing in front of the window, howling with delight.

Scott is visibly relieved. We go inside and greet the pups. When they've settled down, we begin to talk about what we should do. Keep the appointment? Skip it and call with an update. Eat lunch and talk it over?

As we talk, Scott refreshes water bowls and fills up food containers. The dogs come running...or at least two of them do. Scott looks across the living room for Buddy and gasps. The poor old guy is struggling to push himself up onto his back legs and is whimpering in pain.

We get a blanket and his leash. We are off to see the vet.