I don't even know how to start this post. I'm not sure I should. It's not all happy endings here.
When one sees a dog and just seeing her feels like a gut punch, what do you say?
I said, "ohhhh, baby. Oh, you poor, poor baby", and bent down sideways towards her with my head lowered to show her that I meant her no harm. I think that's all she had ever known. I began massaging her spine gently and then I named her, as she went from person to person in the lobby that first night seeking affection. How could she be so sweet? She just was.
Persimmon's time with us was short, but likely the most loved and well treated that she had ever been in her three years of life. Fearful, submissive, undersocialized, in horrible pain due to long neglected demodex, she was still a love, with the cutest face ever. We've all been dumped, rejected, left in tears, but the meaning of the word "dumped" has changed for me. Persimmon was dumped from a truck, with a brand new choke chain (ugh) and a bright new red leash. What's that about? Don't even try to tell me, because no matter what anyone might say, I feel sad and angry. And I feel empty right now.
Farewell, sweetness. May moo-tubes and mounds of soft quilts follow you wherever you go.
And remember, you were loved and honored in this life. And you are no longer invisible.