A Saddening Trip to the Vet

Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.

— Edgar Allan Poe, “The Masque of the Red Death”
 

I’m picking up Lightning’s prescription at the vet . . . the new girl, Lauren, is at the desk.

I can hear a woman weeping loudly from back in the hospital area.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I say.

“A husky attacked her dog at the dog park,” Lauren says. “A little Yorkie. Broke its neck.”

“That’s awful.” I don’t even have the heart to ask her if she cut the pills on the lines.

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