I suppose when you call anyone at 3am there is a good chance that they were sleeping. I told a groggy but awesome dude named Jim on the situation and he gave me directions and off we went. Shana and I are horrible with directions… we have lived here for 3 years and I honestly can’t tell you which bridge is the Ravenel or the Cooper or the Connector and which of those constitute 17 or old 17 or what the fuck is going on in this town. But, we’ve managed to get from here to there and will leave quite proud of our Charleston knowledge.
I also suppose that when someone calls at 3am and they are coming to visit, this man named Jim—presumably the assistant—whose job is mostly to learn from and wake up the other vet because of emergency situations, goes as fast as he can into high gear and becomes a Robin to Batman Superhero of “what is wrong” mode.
That seems slightly dramatic as I write it, but fuck off… that is what happened. The assistant, Robin, immediately triaged the situation, and I think there was a slight lag while he decided to awaken Batman.
This is all to say that the assistant and Doctor at the Emergency Vet that we arrived at were nothing short of incredible. Here are two people–one a pretty asian girl, the other a mad scientist without the science part, who walk in at 3am and say “Hi, this is Jonny, I think she hurts.”
We go into one room…….. Jonny goes into another room….. and I can hear her crying again. (this could be because you touched her paw wrong or pet her head in a way she didn’t like right then, or if you interrupted a great dream where she almost caught that pesky skunk)… it’s a different cry though… it was a fuck! this isn’t good type of cry and I knew it and I recognized it and I was like fuck! this isn’t a good type of cry.
The vet, probably a guy in his 40s or maybe he was 30 or whatever he was he knew the deal. It turns out that he has a husky dog that is 13, and I would bet anything that he saw me in his own eyes. This entire time, neither he nor the tech or the wind or the universe could have been more quite, understudying, supportive, and compassionate, or open to whatever I said to do.
Long story short: I signed some type of paper and they gave Shana a packet or folder with cremation details and then asked if we wanted some time before the final drugs. I was adamant that no, I don’t want a drawn out thing… so the vet came in, Jonny was sedated and she laid down and I say I love you bird, and I held her her head and Shana stroked her back and then Jonny was gone.
They asked if we wanted some time and my first thought was no, I want to get out of here, I can’t stand this pain and we both got up to leave and then at the same moment we both looked back… and there was Jonny’s body… and without a word we both went back to her and talked and cried and Shana said “I love you J”, I said “fuck you, you little shit… that wasn’t supposed to happen, but thanks for everything.”
And then somehow we drove home.