So many months ago. My little elementary babies. Screaming their hearts out to every top forty business they heard. They were young. And on fire. I think of them every time I hear that song.
And when I see their hands stretched out of open windows while their parents tear by my house after picking them up from school.
"Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know...
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean...
Sleep in peace when day is done
That's what I mean....."
Lola and I were shaking it to our woman Nina. She was playing our song. I was making a peach pie, Lola was eating some peanut butter, and Nina sang OUR song. We were dancing. It was a street party in that kitchen.
Alec looked surprised when he walked in.
I picked Lola up from the vet after her observation. She busted out of the door and I fell to my knees and hugged her. The vet tech sunk to his knees as well. I was holding her, kissing her. He earnestly explained her after-care while we both remained on our knees near the waiting room. I suddenly felt embarrassed and rose, then thanked him profusely as Lola dragged me to the door. All I could say was thank you. I had asked him in desperation that morning to save my dog, and he had done it. He was calling something to me as I left. I said 'thank you' over and over as I bolted through the door.
'Thank you' didn't seem like enough. That's why I got out of there.
Lola stood on the passenger seat of my car, tail curled in the air. Her friend with the pick waived at us, smiling.
I sat next to her crate while she fell asleep. She had gone in there voluntarily and passed out. At first, her cheeks puffed out every time she took a breath, as if she was blowing a bubble. Then, she slept more soundly. I sat there for three hours, listening, watching if the breathing stopped, not knowing what I would do if it did.
Lola and I relaxed in the Conservatory, the most beautiful room in our house and the one that she prefers. There isn't a television in there. Only records, a stereo and a big Victorian bay window with stained glass at the top. We listened to the new Shins record. At first, she assumed her position, standing over the back of one of the two chairs in the room, staring out of the window at the street. Then she settled in and laid in the chair. Slowly, she fell asleep. I did some school work, and glanced over at her. She looked like a bag of bones. I watched her carefully, again, to make sure she was breathing, feeling the panic again, the memory.
She's breathing.
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