Mr. Bill, Wunderdog
On Friday, the vet came and I held Mr. Bill in my arms as he left this world and went back to wherever it is we come from, wherever it is we go. It had been a difficult night for him, and he could barely walk, was incontinent, was clearly in pain. Earlier that morning, I picked J. up from his dorm and we drove home in silence. Then, around 2 PM, I held the dog in my arms as the vet administered the last shot. I was 30 years old when I adopted Mr. Bill; J. had just turned two. We had just moved into our apartment post-divorce with our two cats, and I had left Luther and Charlie, the dogs I had with my ex, with him because I couldn't find an apartment that would accept two dogs and two cats. I was paying my mortgage and my rent, and I was terrified and desperate. But I'd never lived alone, and had never really lived without a dog before. So I saw Mr. Bill's photo on a rescue site, and drove out to Richland, Michigan where I picked him up from an animal hoarder's house. H...