October 19, 2007
My wife sent me a text a few hours ago to tell me that my mother-in-laws dog, Lucy, probably has cancer and is going to be put to sleep. I can’t remember how long she’s had the dog, but I do remember that I am the one who picked it out for her. My wife and I chose her from a group of young Yorkshire Terriers at my grandmother’s.
She is a tiny teacup Yorkie and so lovable and sweet. To see her is to instantly fall in love. I normally hate the tiny ankle-biters, but every time I visit my in-laws, Lucy jumps up on my lap, rolls over, and demands to have her belly rubbed.
Cancer… man… I’ve got a lot I could say about that. One of my old friends’ mother died of lung cancer when he was a teenager. One of my students had a brain tumor. My grandpa had lung cancer and died of a stroke. It’s been a drama twist used in nearly every television drama. You wanna bring the tears, start a discussion about cancer. But it’s real.
No more for now.
Until later — “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”