So Polly's Gone.

Hariska Intrigue von Liaker "Polly"

Monday 24th September dawned bright.


Polly my old German Shepherd scrambled to her feet as she had for eighteen years and made her way outside. She went to the bathroom, chased the cat that, I think, enjoyed the morning ritual as much as Polly did.

We then ate breakfast. Not the usual dog food for Polly. Spam and eggs for us both. A real treat which she enjoyed occassionally. Then a short walk to the field at the end of the street.

She fell twice and we both struggled to get her to her feet. Back home she didn't get to come into the house. Straight to the back of the car. Straight in no fuss. She put her head on my leg and there she lay head on my knee for the hour drive to the veterinary surgeon.

Our appointment was at 11:30am we arrived on time. She went quietly to the back room. In seconds she was on the table. Her left paw shaved and the injection done.

Her head on her paws, I felt the cold spread on her neck. She was gone.

Eighteen years of perfect friendship. Now only a memory.

The cat still sits by the tree in the morning. Still and quiet, no longer does that great beast chase him and he waits and waits.

Now there is silence as I leave the house in the morning. Now I do not hear the click of claws on the floor or feel that long nose push my arm as I sit here writing.

Things

There are days when you wake up and things just happen.

Take last Monday for instance. I had my usual retinologist appointment to go to. The usual three hour bus ride there loomed large in my day, the even longer afternoom three hour bus ride home was even looming larger.

The bus came as usual, we made the usual stop outside the local state prison to pick up about twelve former inmates released that day, returning home to all parts of California and beyond. Their questions even go the same way as all other ex-inmates returning home. :What time do we get to the Greyhound?" "Where do we stopp?" "Where do I get cigarettes?"

The bus winds its way across the seemingly endless roads past vineyards and cornfields. Then, What? We didn't make our usual left back there. Instead we roll up to a stop light.

"Bugger!" I mutter. A diversion how much longer will this add to the journey? We turn right and move to the next light. Then left, we don't make a full turn and pull into the edge of a vineyard. A Highway patrol car sits there. Then a County Sheriff car and another, and another Highway Patrol car.

Two County Sheriff Deputies walk to the bus door. The Driver opens it and they board, call a name and the man across the aisle from me answers. One of the former prisoners. He gathers his things and exits the bus. Bundles into one of the Sheriff's cars and is gone. Leaving a passion of excitement behind.

So what had been just another day, the same as any other is no longer just that. Now a day that was full of things. A day that will mark itself as different. A day unlike any other.