I’m expecting to get lots of comments for this post as the subject is religion based and it’s a controversial topic. You don’t agree with me? That’s perfectly fine. Maybe we can start a dialogue. You list your reasons against and I will list my reasons.
Maggie’s health is rapidly declining. She has always been prone to skin issues. She went to the vet with yet another skin issue a couple weeks ago, but the vet couldn’t identify it. On the blood work, though, he found something else. My sweet dog is in liver failure.
I know a vet’s goal is to save animals, but when he found a problem with her liver, he had a huge list of treatments. Maggie is eleven! After my soul searching by me watching her, my parents and I have decided that it’s time for the one last trip to the vet L. But it’s for the best. Besides the skin issue, she hasn’t been eating and there has been a stinky mess in my room when I wake up almost every day this week.
With all of our pets, it is Dad who always gets that job but he’s on a business trip right now. It will have to wait three or four days—just enough to spoil her rotten.
Now my question to my readers: Do dogs go to heaven?
My opinion? Heaven is paradise where everything is perfect, right?
How could a place be perfect without our canine friends?
So, it will probably be in fifty or sixty years (Mom’s side of the family lives forever), but I know I’ll be reunited with my sweetheart.
My dream was to be an astronaut. Not in the eight-year-old, “When I grow up” way, but I really was going to be an astronaut. I had written to NASA for an application packet (so I knew what to take, school wise) and was on a first-name basis with the woman in the astronaut selection office. I was going to be an astronaut.
That was age 12, 13, and 14.
As I’ve told you, I got sick at age 14, which to my current state. God obviously had other plans for me. I’m not at all bitter. My life is wonderful.
But, hypothetically, if I had been an astronaut, would I have walked on the moon? Mars?
I sometimes become sad at what could have been. But one thought brings me back to Earth (no pun intended): I DESPISE MATH. There’s the silver lining.
The medicinal scent, an artificially sweet scent mixed with chemicals I can’t pronounce, permeated the room. It was a scary place. I looked over at the nightstand of my “home” for the past ten months. There was George, my best and only friend at the time.
His once-pristine jammie top was stained. Spills from careless nurses and miscellaneous hospital grime. His smile, though stitched on, told me that he didn’t mind. “Erin, we’re in this together!”
To me, it feels like maybe five years ago. I still can’t believe it has been seventeen years. I have aged, fourteen to closing in on my 31st year. A little too old to have a stuffed animal.
But George isn’t just your run-of-the-mill plush toy. Every time I look to the left of my bed sitting on my gunmetal gray loveseat, I see him, smiling widely. “Erin, this journey is scary, but again, we’re in this together!”
Looking at my friend is bittersweet. I purchased him, probably with babysitting money. When I could walk, talk, you name it. Obviously, that was pre-1998, when all possibilities were open to me. George got me through this terrifying place. A place where I survived; survived a virus predicted to take my life. Survived against all odds.
All I can say is thank you, George. But thank you isn’t strong enough.