Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Wisecracking Across America - 59. Coda
Coda
And they lived happily ever after. Well, mostly. The dog, Fluffy---now St. Fluffy, who art in Heaven if you believe in that, or is waiting for us at the Rainbow Bridge if you prefer that---lived with us for almost another ten-and-a-half years. She died comfortably on our dining room floor, after she let us know it was time.
Our family vet said Fluff would do that. And after untypically sleeping nights for a couple of weeks in the backyard, under a cooling bush, she crawled in to her previously usual spot on the carpet besides Tom's side of the bed. It was time.
That morning, Tom and I gave her the necessary pills to slow her down before the vet arrived. In between, I left Tom alone with the deep-sleeping Fluff because I knew he wouldn't cry as freely in front of me. She'd always been his dog. The family joke was that first, Tom had gotten Fluff, and then he got me.
After Tom had the time he needed, the vet and her assistant arrived and gave Fluff a shot the vet said almost wasn't necessary---because she was so deeply asleep she probably wouldn't wake. Then Tom, the vet, and her assistant cried.
Fluff's ashes are still in our bedroom, and they'll make it with us to the cemetery in Sligo some day. But there's no rush.
It's taken two white Boxers to almost replace her. They've been with us for nearly eight years and haven't traveled as much but have almost traveled as far---if you rack up the repeated miles to our annual Christmas home.
The truck's still parked out front and has long been promised to our gardener, but it's still the vehicle I feel most comfortable driving around town---I wouldn't trust it much further than that. I wanted to get it repainted five years ago, but Tom---typically---said "Why?"
And Tom and I finally got married two years ago, on our eighteenth anniversary. That was the thing that wasn't directly said in the book---that over the course of the trip, the narrator fell in love with the driver. And with the dog, of course.
Actually, I'd considered us married since soon after the trip, but Tom didn't see any need to make it formal---"since I didn't believe in god." He finally agreed to it on the advice of our accountant.
That's Tom.
Next Up: In The Plan -- a very different kind of adventure that follows Ben Carlson, a gay, established lawyer, as he juggles two related, complicated trials.
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Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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