'Rita sees me and nods'

Rita sees me and nods. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. She doesn’t know how I’ve tried to help her so many times but to no avail. I feel torn about what’s going to happen next. Rita doesn’t feel torn. She only feels happy to see me. If only she knew.

When they brought her in the first time I thought she was sweet. Someone had found her on a street corner by the Idanha, pacing back and forth and whimpering. She was a medium-sized dog, a German shepherd mixed with…something. I had always liked that breed because they seem so comforting and protective at the same time. Rita had much more of the comforting gene in her.

I had been working at the Idaho Humane Society for about 5 years when they found Rita. She came in looking scraggly and hungry. I knew she would probably be adopted out soon, but there was a problem. Rita only had 3 legs. I don’t think she knew it, though. Her phantom fourth leg seemed to work in conjunction with the other 3, and you wouldn’t know anything was wrong with her unless you looked closely. I wondered how she’d lost that leg. Who did she belong to?

Rita’s owners never appeared, and after a few days I started fostering her. She was shy at first and wasn’t sure what to make of the two other dogs and a cat in her new home. Turtle, the cat, nuzzled up to her and she froze, staring at me. I told Rita to relax. After a few weeks she did, and she was one of us.

Several years later was when I first felt the tumor. Then another. Then another. Thousands spent on radiation. Nights spent listening to her cry and whine. Medications that didn’t seem to help. That day Rita saw me and nodded and I nodded back. And then she was gone.

I wasn’t really expecting to write such a maudlin story. Such a plain and simple story. As I was writing I was thinking, “Make it interesting, do something unexpected. Everyone knows the story of a beloved dog being put to sleep.” Yet my brain feels hijacked by adrenaline. Got here, forgot the key on my first official day. Isn’t that how it goes? Thank goodness writers are good conversationalists and can entertain themselves. It’s so hard to have everything in order first thing in the morning. I did have my outfit hanging on my bathroom door, ready to greet me this morning. Thank you for planning ahead, past self.

I have a band-aid on my ring finger instead of my rings. That’s so symbolic, I could have written about that. Writing prompt, maybe?