©irene waters 2014
Roger was inconsolable and watched Mungo liked a hawk for signs of deterioration. At every available moment Roger hugged Mungo as though he would never let him go. As a result Roger spent less time in the shop, having every minute he could with his faithful friend. It was far too early a demise – we’d only had him in our life for four years. Those years though he was with us 24 hours a day and when I’d started work at the kidney house he’d kept Roger’s sanity.
I also watched him like a hawk. There was no sign of deterioration that I could see, if anything I thought there was some improvement. He didn’t seem to cry when he lay down and appeared to want to go for walks again. His appetite was good – they were either fantastic pain killers I was giving him twice a day or, I hoped, perhaps the diagnosis was wrong.
Roger’s state of nervous tension was reaching an all time high. Being a proactive person this waiting was more than difficult. After a week and a half he could take it no longer and rang the vet.
“Would we be seeing a change by now if it is cancer” he asked.
“I was just about to ring you myself” Rob the vet said “I sent Mungo’s x-rays to the vet faculty at Sydney Uni and they have just got back to me. It’s not cancer. It’s a very severe arthritis of his knee-joint. He probably injured his cruciate ligament as a puppy and it wasn’t picked up. Come over next week and see me.”
Our elation knew no bounds. Mungo didn’t have cancer and although we didn’t know what lay in store with this new diagnosis we had a new lightness in our step.
WRITERS NOTE:
Thank you everyone for the huge outpouring of hugs, support and sympathy that my last episode elicited. I accepted them all feeling very touched that a dog and a person, both unknown to you personally but known in this blogging world that brings us all closer together, were cared about. I also felt very guilty not saying in my responses to you that Mungo survived this episode and I tossed up do I tell you or keep your suspense going until the next episode. I obviously chose the latter as I felt it might be like reading the last chapter of a book or knowing the end of a film when you’d only just started on it. I had a sleepless night as a result feeling guilty about making you wait when I’d made you sad. I hope you’ll forgive me.
As a writer, you have let me know that I have been successful in making you part of the story so that you care about these things, I’ve managed to move your emotions. I also know that I have created a climax, and will have delivered an unexpected outcome.
Mungo does pass on eventually and I know these messages mean a lot to me as I do know how losing a close family member, whether it be a pet or a person, feels. Thank you all so very much.
Reflections and Nightmares- Irene A Waters (writer and memoirist) 