In a dark room, illuminated by the laptop screen, I sit and listen to CNN radio and try to type around Carrot (her favorite spot is right in front of the laptop).
In a dark room last night, I tried to get comfortable as I curled my body around Ginger and held her while we slept.
In a dark room, lit only by a nightlight next to the sink, Ginger slept in her makeshift bed for her last few hours here in the house.
In darkness, I carried her to the car and we drove to the vet. And we sat for an hour in darkness, waiting for the office to open.
In a brightly-lit exam room, we spent the next hour, just she and I. I touched her and pet her and spoke to her constantly. I used a lot of tissues to blow my nose.
In a brightly-lit room, I watched the vet insert a needle somewhere near her back leg, and I watched my Ginger’s last breath. I watched her eyes go dark, as her pupils expanded. I touched her and pet her and spoke to her constantly, even when I knew she was gone.
Under an overcast sky, I drove myself home, and crawled into bed. In dim light, as it began to snow, I slept.
In a dark room, I type this in order to record it. And I cry.
Gingersnap 9/15/2002-1/19/2012
