PhillyTwo and I left for Tunica on the 26th, which given our track record, was as civilized as we could pretend to be. We've been known to head to the casinos on Christmas Day. The weather was iffy when we got up that morning, but a little snow and ice didn't change our minds, and it was the damn salt truck that actually made the drive more difficult. If you've ever driven behind one, you know what I'm talking about. I pressed the windshield-sprayer button so many times between Knoxville and Cookeville, I ran out of the blue stuff and had to stop and buy some. My black car was salty white by the time we got to Mississippi.
As soon as we arrived we went straight to our room and broke out the food and drink: summer sausage, wheat thins, cashews, Chex mix, and vodka mixed with Sprite's and garnished with limes. The perfect hotel picnic. Then we went downstairs to the casino to let the gambling begin. We decided to acclimate ourselves to losing money by starting in the Keno lounge because it's cheap, time-consuming and the waitresses come by often. We were betting a dollar a game, so there was no real fear of winning big. UNTIL...PhillyTwo marked her numbers, went to the counter, paid her two dollars (for two games) and when she came back and sat down, she noticed they had marked the wrong numbers. She went back to complain, but the first game on her ticket had already started, so they said they couldn't correct that one, but they could correct the next one. She said, "Okay. And you might as well check the one you marked wrong and see if I won anything with it." And of course they did, and of course she won $120 on that ticket! Their mistake. Her good fortune.
The next morning I got up early and so that I wouldn't disturb the one who has to sleep late on vacations, I went downstairs to call Ron. I was excited to tell him about PhillyTwo's big win. He answered the phone, but once he said, "Hello," he went silent. I thought the phone had disconnected. But then I realized he was still there, but wasn't talking. Then it came. "Fred's gone." "What?" "I had him put to sleep this morning." He was sobbing. "He couldn't walk anymore. I knew it was time." By this time we were both were crying. Him, in the privacy of our home. Me, in the middle of the hotel lobby with people staring at me, wondering how much money I had lost. Must have been a lot, the way I was carrying on.
So the dog I loved to complain about, the dog I hated to love, but did, isn't with us anymore. He was sixteen years old. He had been deaf for quite a while. He could barely see. He was incontinent. We were fairly certain he was senile. And finally, he could no longer walk. Ron was right. Sadly, it was time to let his buddy go. Fred was a member of our family. There will never be another one like him.
PhillyTwo snapped this picture of Fred wrapped in a coat right before we left for Tunica. RIP little Fred.
*Sorry about the title. I couldn't resist. I always look for humor through tears.
4 comments:
Know just how you feel. While back we lost our Annie, a sweet & wonderful Boston terrier. Too many problems; too much to ask a good old friend to go through just to keep us happy. So we let her go, but we'll always miss her.
Thanks for sharing that. So hard to let them go.
I'm so sorry, Philly. We've gone through the same thing with a white cat we adored named Casper. He had stomach cancer. Going through it made us swear we'd never get another pet. It was just too painful to lose him. And then, a couple of years later, a cute little calico kitten wandered up to our front door. We took her in because we thought she needed us. But really, we needed her. Your story made me cry. God bless you and Ron.
Thanks Cynthia. Only an animal lover would cry.
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