Amanda Hopper Writes

A writer's tale of living and working in the country.

Next Country Music Hit

*Imagine a twangy banjo tune*

Today I put my dog to sleep,
Then broke out my two front teeth.
Got home and the calf was loose,
Oh, I’m feeling the Ranchin’ Blues.

Let me tell you, the above mentioned are only funny when happening to someone else. Or maybe if the events were spaced further apart…but all within 24 hours?
Not. Funny.
After a two-year progression of crazy took the mind of our 11-year-old Aussie, I finally acquiesced to the vet’s recommendation of putting her down. The boys knew it was coming but did not know the exact day or time. We told Grant and he went with me on Thursday morning to say goodbye. There was a lot of crying and hugging, but we made it through the gentle process and busied ourselves with the fact that the world would not slow down for our grieving.
That evening, we all enjoyed a stroll through Grant’s Science Night at school and I took Sam and Ian to McDonald’s for a rare treat of romping through the play place- knowing that I would have to tell them of Jessie’s passing when we got home.
With the words that would send us all home on the tip of my tongue, I watched in horror as Sam slipped and fell on the tile floor. Instead of catching himself with his hands, he opted to use his teeth.
Unfortunate choice.
As I looked down at him lying face-down on the floor with the pulverized dust that used to be his two front teeth, it suddenly occurred to me that I had yet to tell him that his dog had died earlier in the day. The calm-crisis-mom inside of me suddenly found herself in a cage match with freaking-out-mom, and let me tell you- the fight was a bloody one.
Thankfully, the tooth devastation took most of Sam’s attention, so he was quick to forgive the killing-his-dog thing.
Have you ever tried to call dentists for emergencies or Friday appointments? Not sure what they deem emergencies since it is apparently not a child busting his teeth to smithereens and having jagged little vampire fangs cutting his lips. Not one of the four dentists we called wanted to interrupt their free Friday to do anything about it- all said they would try to see him Monday, four days later.
Thankfully Sam is a trooper. After only fifteen minutes of spazing, he was back to his old goofy self. With a giant snaggle-tooth smile, he looked at me and said, “Well I gueth I know what I want for Chrithmas!”
Bu-dump-bump.
I went to bed that night grateful that each day begins anew- until I woke up to find Jenny’s calf outside the fence. At which point I began informing God that anew meant that the crappy day yesterday was not supposed to bleed over into the next morning.
I’m pretty sure He ignored me… just like the calf.
Thankfully today begins a new week. The calf, Daisy, finally decided that she was hungry and took Andy’s suggestion that she skedaddle back to her momma- five hours after making a break for it. And we are beginning to heal from our losses, both beloved pet and permanent teeth. So on this sunny day I am repeating my husband’s mantra to myself.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
He better be right 🙂  

We buried Jessie under an old oak tree on our property.

Sadly there wasn’t enough left of Sam’s teeth for a proper burial 🙁

1 Comment

  1. Oh my gosh–seriously?!?!?! How crazy. You need to get some kind of award for making it through that kind of day–whew!<br /><br />Hey thanks for reading my post on Janice&#39;s blog today!

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