Luck's Run Out?
This weekend was minorly insane and most assuredly intense.
Today I feel pretty out of it, mildly confused and can't stop thinking about dogs, life, death and Boots.
Sunday was supposed to be a day about town with friends. Either I was going to go to the Berkshires with Alyssa or I was going to go to a swim meet and skee ball...thing...with Stefanie and Jamie. When we crashed at Stef's we had no idea what that day was going to become.
Stef took Vegas, a dog she was taking care of for friends, on a walk. An hour later she ran into her apartment saying Vegas ran off his leash and she's been looking for him the entire time. Jamie and I were off running.
Jamie found him first. Surrounded by police and an angel named Rosemary, laid Vegas. I called 311 (a service of NYC, which I have found endlessly useful, if not completely insensitive to the human condition) and they said they have a dog that was hit by a car on 58th and 5th Avenue. I ran as fast as I could. When I got there, Jamie had left to find me and then came back. We stood. Rosemary saw Vegas get hit, a police officer picked him up out of the street. She said he was alive for about 5 minutes and then died.
We dealt with city BS all day. Finally, when 311 said that the Department of Sanitation would be out to pick up Vegas, I shuddered in horror. No possibility of that happening. Can you imagine, your dog is killed while you're out of town and it's been dealt with by the Department of Sanitation? Forget about it. We found a private hospital and brought Vegas there. Rosemary (the aforementioned angel) brought Jamie, Vegas and me there. The hospital was great. The best people we dealt with all day. They were the first ones to understand.
Now what's messing me up is why it's affecting me the way it is. I was so angry at the city yesterday; grateful for Rosemary; grateful that this man I had met the night before turned out to be solid and capable; in pure wonderment at the ephemeral nature of life; so grateful that it was Vegas (sorry Vegas), not my parents, Stefanie, or my cat. And I can't get it off my mind. Let me highlight: I didn't even know this dog when he was alive. It may have even been a female.
That's what I've got for now. Wanted to write it down so I could try to get Vegas and a terribly disorganized and insensitive city out of my brain...
If you're reading this, I most likely miss you very much!