...feel the pain/of scars that won't heal/your eyes have died/but you see more than I....
"I gotta get outta here," he says. "It's too much." His eyes shine. I suspect he gave her an extra dose so it would be quick.
The receptionist admits that though she sees it every day, she'll never be used to it.
"I didn't think so," I say.
The woman I spoke with briefly in the waiting room reaches out to grip my hand, squeezes it, offering sympathy.
Dr. Schultz was astounded when I told him how old Pogo was. He has a soft spot for Goldens; it's the breed his family keeps as pets.
I go home, arms empty, and wait to feel better.
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