![]() Tripod watches me with deep brown eyes I know better than my own. I couldn’t do it right, just couldn’t, so I put some powder on his favorite food and left him alone for the night.” He injects the anesthetic quickly into Tripod’s hip. “My old yellow lab couldn’t walk the stairs anymore. “I had to put my own dog to sleep once.” His voice is slow and soothing. When she’s asleep I’ll leave and you can do it.” My eyes feel warm and wet, and I blink several times fast. It might take her five or ten minutes to go down.” “OK, we can do that if you like.” He turns to prepare another syringe. “Wait,” I say, “what about knocking her out first with an anesthetic right into the muscle?” I don’t want Tripod to spend her last moments in pain, the vet jabbing for a tiny, rolling blood vessel. ![]() ” He shakes his head sadly, looking into my eyes. I usually have more luck with the right leg, but. “She’s dehydrated, so the veins are very small. ![]() “I’m afraid we’re going to have trouble getting this injection in,” he says. He approaches with a syringe and feels for a vein on her front leg. Besides, this man is much older and wiser looking, less blustery and businesslike. This vet is filling in for the regular guy, which is just as well since I hate to cry in front of people I know. ![]() I’d blame it on the fact that a vet removed her right front leg when she was young, but the truth is she hated them even before that. “Good dog, Tripod,” I say in time with my slow strokes. My old dog lies on her side, the overhead fluorescent light bouncing off the silver table. ![]()
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