Coco is a dog. She doesn’t understand what’s about to occur to her later on today.
I’m not sure I understand. She doesn’t deserve this; no one does but options outside life come into play.
Yesterday Mommy called someone and told her she needed to put me down. I don’t know what that means. Everyone, Daddy and Mommy seem different toward me today.
They look down at me with their eyes so sad. Daddy is outside digging a hole in the yard near the rose bushes and the mint that grow so abundantly.
Mommy has a box she set aside and I watched her place a blanket inside. She hums a sad song. Daddy comes in and washes his hands in the bathroom. He nods at her and tells her in human language that I vaguely understand that it’s ready. What is it?
“Coco let’s go for a ride. Not you Zeus, you stay home.”
“Zeus is my life partner,” I bark at her. But she doesn’t listen to me. He whimpers as I go into Daddy’s car. We leave now. The garage door closes and I’m in Mommy’s lap. The box is in the backseat with a folded towel inside. I don’t know where we’re going. But, I have this sense it can’t be good.
Zeus always goes with me, everywhere. Why is he not with me?
Jerry Schellhammer 