I am so sorry Frodo.
I have been so busy trying to decide who or what to blame for your death, from the day I laid my hand on you in your cage when I felt your last breath that I forgot that it was your last breath I felt.
Forgot or rather hide.
I won’t forget about that glass of red wine I drunk at Wendy’s. To give me “Dutch courage” beforehand.
I won’t forget how I was trying to tidy up at work before driving home. How Chris my boss looked at me incredulous that under such circumstances – your certain death – all I could think about was tidying up work.
How could I explain to him your death had a deadline – 2 pm.
2 pm was the appointment the vet had given me to put you to sleep.
Only Wendy, who came with me – for support – witnessed my desperate attempt to save your life.
£2,000 was the price set by the vet on your life.
£2,000 I could really have afforded if I hadn’t been so scared.
Scared it wouldn’t be enough.
The vet tried desperately to convince me it was madness. Even then they couldn’t say for sure you could be saved.
My desperate attempts to call your dad Brent in Canada to see if he could go half on that cost. Only realising now it was the middle of the night his end.
I hate myself for caring so much about the environment. I can never forget seeing you shake that time I tied you to that lamp post in Canmore as I was so busy and angrily cleaning up the garbage in that bloody ditch outside that petrol station whose staff commanded me so much for picking other people’s trash.
Did anyone else saw you I wonder and wondered what the hell I was doing – I so want to go back to that spot…so want to.
Maybe that’s where I should go for Christmas…Canmore.
Revisit the road, the spot where it all went wrong for me. Travel down to Waterton where things completely went wrong for me and you.
Could I though Frodo? Could I?
No, I could never – ever. Alberta is out of bounds for me now. For Ever.
I can live with that. I know I can.