Today was a day where I feel I accomplished a few things. I ordered a replacement cup for the one that exploded, I got a few things out in the mail, I set up my meetup group's next dinner and I got the insurance squared away on the BMW. I feel a lot more comfortable driving it with full coverage than I did with just comprehensive. I also learned that if I were to sell one of the cars and lose my multi-car discount, it would be less expensive to insure the BMW than it would be to insure the Lancer. That was a huge shock. The amount isn't that much different-it works out to about $5/month, but still, it isn't what I was expecting.
I feel more than a little silly for not being able to just pick a car and sell it. It shouldn't be this hard. And I feel especially silly about it when I think about what our best friends are going through: they are trying to decide whether or not it is time to put down one of their two dogs.
He is such a good dog, but he is older and he is struggling. He still has okay days, but she knows he is suffering and just wants to do what is right for him. It if frustrating for her because she can't gauge how much pain he is and of course, he can't tell her. He just looks up with his trusting, loving brown eyes. He has a badly infected fatty tumor in his leg and he has a neurological issue the vet says is not related to the infection. The vet wants to remove the tumor; but there is nothing that can be done for the neurological issue. My heart is breaking for her-I cry everytime I think of that big, sweet dog of theirs and what it is going to be like to go over there and him not be there anymore. And I think about the dog that is going to remain and how it is going to affect her for her buddy to be gone. And I think about my godsons and how sad it is going to be for them. They got the dog when my youngest godson was still a baby; he is now 13. This is the first dog James' best friend has ever owned; I know this is hitting him hard too.
And of course this makes me think of my own little darlings and how someday, long before I am ready, I am going to be in this same position. Only I won't have my husband to help me make the decision. I am going to have to make it alone. Even if I am blessed with a second chance at love, it won't be the same. He won't be the man that researched dog breeds with me for 6 months before deciding cocker spaniels would be the best fit. He won't be the man that brought Sams home while I was taking the Oregon State Tax Preparer's exam. He won't be the man that told the breeder that my idea of the "pick" of the litter was not the same as hers and we would be taking the runt (aka Charlie), so she could stop trying to force the other one on me. He won't be the man that rushed Charlie to the vet the first time his back went out, or who held me when I cried myself to sleep after Charlie had surgery and the incision got infected and I was convinced he was going to die. He won't be the man who laughed and laughed every night while Sammy "pinned" his shoulders down and showered him with kisses. He won't be the man who convinced me to get them in the first place and who knew he had to get me through it when it was time for them to go. He won't understand how losing my boys is like losing a part of James.
I look at them laying here waiting (most likely impatiently) for me to get off the computer. I can't believe they are already 7 years old-that my time with them is half over. It's going too fast. I can't decide between two cars. When the time comes, how I am ever going to decide to let one of my babies go?