Wednesday, May 16, 2007

614 days, 5 hours, 33 minutes, 39 seconds

And his brother called everyone together in the living room, congratulated his daughter on her graduation, and then went into a story about a dog he'd seen on the road the other day. Hit by a car, he thought. He looked dead, but still he lifted it into the back of his truck and took it to the vet. The vet pt it up on the table and brought a tabby cat in and placed it by the dog's head. The cat walked all around the table and the dog didn't move and the vet wanted to charge him $200 for the cat scan.

It's not a cat scan, it's a CT Scan. She knows that now.

And tomorrow she's going for a pet scan. Radioactive, they tell her. She thinks of the vet two blocks away, with a puppy play group held there Tuesday and Thursday evenings, a bereavement group every Wednesday.