Cancer Journal #43 July 30
The other day, I went to the vet's office to pick up some pills for our old dog. As I was pulling out of my parking stall, I saw a concerned woman open up the hatchback of her car and I saw in there a big old dog, lying on its side with heaving, distressed breathing and a young gal in by it, tear stained face and real unhappy. Big dogs go early. The thought occurred to me to stop, get out and ask them if I could pray for the dog. Like a nudge that was slight but still there, I think. I perished that thought, chased away the nudge and finished pulling out of my stall and went on my way, throwing up an obligatory sort of a prayer thing that probably created no great commotion in Heaven. I should have stopped. Why didn't I? It would have been a little weird. It would have taxed my social skills to make the whole deal, none the less, acceptable. Maybe you should leave people alone when they are going through canine mortality crises...