<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d7615377689624956874', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe", messageHandlersFilter: gapi.iframes.CROSS_ORIGIN_IFRAMES_FILTER, messageHandlers: { 'blogger-ping': function() {} } }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

When I got up yesterday morning, I was first greeted by my Mum's tear stained face, and then by the sound of a dog whimpering downstairs. Honey had tried to come in the back door, got stuck, and didn't have the strength left to pull herself forward on the floor, so she was half inside and half outside and not happy about it.

We've been talking for a while about having her put down, because as the vet kept telling us, it's about her quality and enjoyment of life, and she wasn't having very much of either these days. I kept arguing against it. I didn't want to live in a Honey free world. I didn't want to be cooking in the kitchen and not have her lying in the middle of the floor getting in everyone's way. I didn't want to be eating in the dining room and not have her swinging her entire body weight at your legs trying to get some food off you. I wanted to always have her lying on the red rug in the sitting room, rubbing her tummy and having her roar her disapproval if you stopped for too long. I wanted her sitting at Dad's feet, patiently waiting and drooling while he peeled his apple core, and she ate it like spaghetti as it came off the apple in one long curl. I wanted her expression when you asked her where her lead was, and she'd hurl herself up the steps and out the door. I wanted her deliberately walking in every puddle she could find on any walk, going out of her way to do it both on the way down and the way back. I wanted her suddenly and without reason becoming completely enraged that there were cats in the house, even though there are always cats in the house, and suddenly pulling herself up on her front legs and barking furiously as they sprinted away in terror.

But it's not about me, it's about her, and she wasn't happy any more. Bless her heart, she made the decision slightly easier for us when we got to the vet, because she when he came out to bring us in to the room, she went from lying on the floor to standing to veering on the floor, walked in to a wall, hit her head and fell over again. We couldn't help but laugh, even as we were bawling our eyes out.

It's only been a day and I miss my Hun Bun so much I've been crying the whole time I've been trying to write this.


This entry was posted on 09 June 2005 at 10:21 am. 0 comments

0 Comments:

Post a Comment