The Phone

The ring of our phone ripped the quiet this morning at about 7:30. From across town our daughter was telling her dad, Mr. Fun, some very disturbing news . . . Katie their little white Westie dog had died this morning at 6:40.

They didn't know what had happened, but that Katie had acted slightly strange yesterday and then this morning had been very sick in one of their bedrooms. They had an eleven o'clock appointment for her to see the vet. They were taking care of her and cleaning the mess when Katie collapsed.

When our daughter phoned us, our son-in-law John was taking Katie's body to the vet for an autopsy. Katie was really our 21 year-old granddaughter, Ashly's, dog. Later Grandpa Fun phoned Ashly's cellphone to console her and she just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. She is heartbroken.

"Katie Cutie" (as we all called her) had come to our family from my sister in Portland, Oregon, two years ago because she needed a home and she found a good one with Ashly. Ash was so thrilled to have her. Katie had fit right into our family.

Tomorrow will be one month ago since our Bob dog died. I've cried buckets this past month and tried not to dwell on it here in my journal.

This day has been so shocking and sad and very devastating.

from Southern California, good night.
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol