Friday, May 25, 2012
She loves that dog more than us
I'm afraid Isla was in on a conversation about the imminent future, possible, probable, most-likely inevitable necessity of putting Ruby to sleep.
"We're going to have to kill her," Esther said, without a hint of sensitivity.
"Kill her?" Isla repeated.
"Esther," I pleaded.
"Well the vet is going to have to put her down and she'll actually be dead."
"If anyone tries to put Ruby down, I'll kill them," Isla said.
Later that night:
"You can't put Ruby down. I don't want her to die. She's my best friend. I love her more than you guys."
"Do you mean you love her more than you love us, or you love her more than we love her?"
"I said, 'I love her more than you guys.'"
Either way, I don't blame her.
This really sucks.
You know it's going to happen one day, but that doesn't make it any easier. I seem to be maintaining this strange detachment from the whole thing. I can't bring myself to think about it, to make it real, or even to prepare myself.
Does this mean we're not ready, or I'm in denial?