Monday evening [Mar-8-99]

      As I approached, flooded in cold fluorescent light, I see her on the blankets ... the door is open.  She is laying down.  She knows I am here but she doesn't move and keeps looking down.  Only two days ago she sat by me, looking at me with her beautiful dark eyes smiling at me ... she would melt hearing my telling her how beautiful she is, caressing her face with both hands.... and she purrs.  Oh I know, she is not supposed to purr but Flicka does.  I love her and in her way she loves me.

      I squat down, sat on the blanket, put my hand on her head, slowly stroking her.  Soon her eyes move toward me, just the eyes.  Only two days ago she was so alive, jumping, running, barking ... now she lays down, weak, in pain, just able to breathe, waiting for death to release her.  Now she raises her head and looks at me with such sad eyes ... pleading for me to stay and not to stop caressing her ... my eyes filled with tears.

      She is the only faithful companion I have, totally accepting me, always.  What a lesson for us humans.  I see her pouncing whenever she hears the collar for she knows it means a ride in the truck on the front seat with me.  She came with me from New York ... four days and nights in the truck and never a complain even though she could not stretch.  And I don't stop stroking her, gently, with love ... please get well ... don't die ... am I selfish?  Am I crying for her or for me?

      I remember those trips to the Town Lake, to the Blue Hole, to all those puddles ... how wonderful ... and now here, caressing her ... with all those strange noises and smells ....and ... in a cage with a door that closes ... and I hear the doctor ... disappointed ... no response to the treatment ... kidneys are failing ... but, let's try one more day ... and I see her pouncing in the snow, rolling in it ... how happy then ... how sad she looks now.

      We take her out for a few minutes in the sunshine ... what an effort ... even so, never a complaint ... when she returns, she can't even lift her head to look at me ... but I keep caressing her and talking to her ... I knew she could feel and hear me.  And I stayed till they closed the place and I had to leave.

Tuesday evening.

      I arrive late ... the doctor signals me to follow him ... Flicka died at about 4:30 PM.  And I cry ... no, I don't want to see her dead body in the cage ... and I am left alone in the room by the steel table, flooded with cold fluorescent light.  This afternoon, at work, I heard my name ... John ... whispered twice.  it was only a couple hours before she died.

      I am sorry she was not in my arms when she died ... that she died in a strange place, alone.

      I open the door at home ... no Flicka to greet me ... no Flicka to caress, no Flicka to beg for food or to bring a ball to play ...

      Like you and me, she is Life.

      And life continues as if nothing ... alone with my pain.  I know ... Time is the Universal Healer ...or is it?