This is when my dog went to lay down to never rise again.
I was just finishing my morning shift at work, hurrying to get home and call a cab to take us to the vet.
My mother called me on Saturday afternoon, telling me he hasn't been eating and drinking well, being tired and not urinating. For a week.
It took her a week to call me, knowing I'd bear all possible expenses alone.
On that same night it got worse, he had blood in the few urine drops he put out.
I was an hour away from getting him to the vet, but I guess it was already too late even then. A week.
I found him lying in the living room beside the sofa, like he was stretching out for a nap, a final nap.
He vomitted that last nap. Probably the death spasm.
His lips were curled up in a tiny snarl.
His eyes staring blankly.
His pretty black-brown eyes.
His fur was soft like it's been in life, though his body was stifenning up.
I took his hands in mine but he didn't respond.
His soft paws I always liked to caress and kiss, and he always tried to pull them away.
He didn't try to flick his ear away when I kissed it.
Didn't had that wonderful content look when I pet the back of his neck.
He was just lying there, surrounded by the juices of life, released in death. His pointless death. A week.
It took her a week to call me, until it was too late.
That same week she called me because their PC's screen wasn't working.
It didn't work for a day or two, but she called me fast.
He was obviously seriously ill but it took her all week.
She called on Saturday afternoon, when she knew I couldn't have done anything anyway.
He was my only true friend for 10 years, and I didn't even get to celebrate his last birthday last week.
He was suffering then, I could've saved him had I known.
He was as healthy as could be just a little less than a month ago when I last visited him and took pictures. Those are in my cellphone, the last I have of him alive. And happy, so happy I came to visit, though I didn't linger long, I couldn't.
I mostly took this job to get money for him, for food, for medical care.
For medical care I couldn't give him because I didn't know.
On that last visit I gave him some dog treats I bought. I told my little sister to give him one each day, I don't even know if she remembered.
I think he was sleeping, sort of, coma or whatever, when he drew his last breath. He probably just lay down to rest and didn't wake up. And he won't.
And I still have to go to work every day, ask them how much they want to get and fuel their cars. I had to last night, after a fitful 3 hour sleep between shifts. After seeing him for the last time.
I thought I'd take him to the vet and maybe leave him there for care and then get back for the night shift. I was too late. I was told too late.
I collected whatever hairs of his I could pull out of my cloths and put them in a little air-tight plastic bag. This and his pictures are all that I have left now.
The city took his body somewhere, I don't know where, I would never find out, probably for the better, as I can imagine how unceremonially they dumped him, another haunch of meat for them.
I didn't get to see him much since September 2008, when I moved in to my neighboors' house to taske care of their dog and cat, and then almost not at all when I moved away in November that year. Maybe once a month.
I visited him maybe 3-4 times before he died. And only briefly too.
And now I can't anymore.
Sleep, my love, and have nice dreams.
In memory of Perach, who suffered and died needlessly.
I wish I could have been with you that one last time.