Cowboy And Rooster

  Saturday, I felt guilty about listening to the beginning of the Florida-South Carolina game and made myself read a little before returning to it. As I read Monica Crowley's "What The (Bleep) Just Happened Here?"
I wondered why I hadn't fallen to sleep until dawn. Was it just the coke? Then I started feeling overwhelmed by the evilness of Barack Obama - the misery of collectivism for you and me but not for his family, friends, and him. They'll enjoy being the millionaires they publicly demonize to the stupid masses. Contrary to Monica Crowley's upbeat writing, I felt that the good were just too emotionally weak to overcome the strengths of the evil and the stupidity and avarice of the jackasses who vote for the evil. Wow! Why was I so down? Later, I would realize that I hadn't taken my Paxil for two days, at least. I was taking it first thing in the morning with my high blood pressure pill, but had changed my routine. Consequently, I was forgetting the pills. Just as I was about to go back to the game, Bulletproof called. Cowboy was very ill, and they were on the way to the vets. Cowboy was about a ten year old yellow-white lab we had raised from a baby. I shaved, showered, batten down all the hatches and hurried out. I found Bulletproof and Seal in the examining room.  The doctor was filling them in on the details from her examination of Cowboy. I worry that Bulletproof prolongs the dogs' lives so I asked the main question, as far as I was concerned, "Is he in pain?"
  "Some. He was moaning just a few minutes ago." I immediatley said, "Then he needs to be put to sleep." Seal agreed with me. "Just hold on a minute!" Bulletproof yelled at me. Later she apologizzed twice for that. "Not so fast! I just lost Tessa!" Tessa was Cowboy's mother. Bulletproof broke down sobbing, " Life is so unfair. There is no God!" When she regained her compusure, the doctor said, "His stomach is full of new blood and using (some kind of instrument) I was able to see that his spleen had ruptured from cancer." Then she began, albeit unenthusiastically, saying what could be done. Still, she shaked her head no. It was obvious Cowboy was at the end of his ride. "Would you like to see him now, " she asked. Of course. She left and then wheeled Cowboy in on a little stretcher. He was conscious but very weak. He didn't even raise his head. As soon as I petted him, I began falling apart. I didn't want anyone to see me that way so I left the vets' building and started walking down the street trying to stop crying. It seemed that everyone I saw was either walking a dog or standing near their dog in their yards. I pitied the hell they would go through as dogs are so short-lived. To Be Continued, Two-Guns.