She got a big fat bonk in the head and bled like hell. Jack threw her into the truck and I sat in the back talking to her while we drove up to the emergency vet, leaving Jackson in the care of three neighborhood girls, aged eight.
You may be thinking, not the most responsible thing to do with your child? But you don’t know our neighbors. When we came back he was bundled up on the couch of a family on the other side of our complex getting ready to watch Aladdin with a giant apple juice in his hand.
I went to pick him up, my clothes were still covered in blood, but I didn’t want to go home to change first.
He said, Is Katie dead?
No, I said, she just got a big bonk in the head. The doctor gave her something for the pain, she’s going to spend the night there so they can keep an eye on her. We’ll go get her tomorrow.
Will you carry me? he said. My legs are wobbly and my head hurts. I was crying so hard.
My arms still smell like the horrible antibacterial soap at the vets that I used to wash off the blood while we were waiting to hear.
Jack and a neighbor boy were throwing a ball for Katie to chase when the neighbor boy threw it really hard and it bounced into the street in front of a car that was coming. The lady driving the car said she saw the ball but she didn’t see the dog. Another neighbor watching said she was driving too fast and talking on a cell phone.
It doesn’t matter. Katie’s okay, she’ll be home tomorrow.
Katie photo by Tam Tam