The day I have dreaded.
Tomorrow, Thursday, October 16, Dexter has his surgery. We take him to the vet at 8 am. Then I go quietly insane waiting to hear news. He can't come home until Friday.
I'm ready for the recovery stage. I am. I have all the toys, chewy things, baby gates, blankets, hot packs, cold packs, animal planet dvds, pumpkin biscuits, a leash on every doorknob, etc. that I think we might need. Tomorrow all that needs done is one last vacuum of the living room, and then I will drag the futon cushion in so I can sleep on the floor with him.
I just need to get to that point.
Somehow I have to survive the next day and a half without him here.
Yes, I am well aware that I have major psychological issues regarding my dog, and it's all wrapped up in losing my dad. I know. I get it. Fuck off.
Whoever you are, and whatever it is that you do, religiously or spiritually or whatthefuckever, please do so for my Dex tomorrow.
Because I can't really say I can survive without him.
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