When she came out of the bedroom, thoughts from the previous conversation lingering in her mind, she picked up the pill bottle labeled, “Heartgard” and began picking pills off the linoleum.
She wondered where her pug was, confused at the absence of excited paws scuttling to meet her. Her eyes wandered, and about 3 feet away rested on Gracy, the blessed pug that shared the same household. Gracy looked quaint, slumped on the floor in an odd position.
Her heart skipped a beat as she closed the space between her and her pet.
“Gracy,” she cooed, rubbing the pug’s belly like she always loved. When no response came, she grew worried.
“Gracy,” she strained, panic rising in the back of her throat when the pug kept still.
She turned Gracy’s head over and shouted desperately, “GRACY!” Now tears coursed down her cheeks in steady rhythm.
The pug looked up at her owner, and by a miracle began taking raspy, uneven breaths.
More hot tears found there way down raw red cheeks as a shaking hand reached down to caress a furry body.
“Shhhh…” the girl whispered.
She felt Gracy relax in her grip, and continued comforting the injured dog.
The heart beat faded, the eyes ceased to see, and a once warm body went cold.
Gracy was dead.
She never expected Gracy to die. She never acknowledged the fact that pugs are curious dogs and eat almost everything in sight. She never noticed that 15 minutes in another room could cause a lifetime of hurt. She never realized how lonely she was without someone to greet her everyday. She never planned to visit an animal shelter some weeks later. She never wanted to be transfixed by those big, sad eyes. She never intended to bring another pug home, to take the risk of loving again. And yet, there he was, sleeping on the edge of her bed, chest rising and falling steadily.
Regis.
