Our popi was shot.

Had 2 wounds, the exit wound bled heavily. We was soaked in blood and dirt.

We place him in a comfortable position. While we struggle to halt crying.

We think.

We discuss the options.

We call Rebadulla and he advices that we bring him in for emergency measures and status assessment.

We ask questions.

We hate, we calm down, and cry again.

We collect ourselves.

Honestly, we considered euthanasia thinking that his major organs were damaged.

We thought of giving up, while he fought it. Shame.on.us.

He was brought to the animal hospital after some 30-minute effort to transfer him to the car. With angry growls- sign of pain and discomfort.

D5LR hooked after a gentle massage from the vet and a prior growl from Popi.

He was seen. 2 X-ray shots done.

Partial pneumothorax. Left lung affected.

Doctor advices he stays in the hospital for wound management- medical and surgical.

Doctor says Popi is for fasting prior to minor OR surgery.

We nod. We agree.

Doctor tells us Popi was lucky. The bullet wasn’t stuck inside his chest or wherever. He didn’t lose too much blood. He was strong enough to handle the pain.

Honestly, no whines from Popi. Just bossy growls. Speaks so much about him and his naughty bossy character.

We settle.

We go home.

We cry.

We worry.

We call the hospital to check.

We worry.

It was, at that time, a process that was so hard to stop.

Popi is family. You can’t stop worrying about a family member-shot, in pain, alone in a hospital.

End of may 15.

1 am, still awake. thinking of popi.

2 am.

3 am.

——————————————————-

My documentation of what happened that early afternoon of may 15 until the time I was able to sleep on the day he was shot.

Just major details. Major emotions. I was too worried to even write at that time. Now, I feel it is best to document this life changing experience.

when you have everything you could ever need

but it still isn’t enough.

there’s a void.

a void that,  for the love of God,  only I can figure out.

But I am glad to turn a year older towards a better, wiser me.

writingsforwinter:

if we lived in glass houses we ran away at our own reflections

every wall was a mirror and every mirror was a wall.

it was terrifying; we became ghosts in our own mind,

the corners filled with the edges of something darker and long gone.

our pillows would be turned over on the beds,

a picture…