One of the Good Guys Died, 09/27/2011

We saw him in the flesh on Wednesday. We saw him in the paper on Monday.

In between, he died.

She opened the morning paper and was flipping pages and there he was,

And I mean was. Not to be trite, but what a shock!

Our family veterinarian died in his sleep, peacefully the obit stated.

I guess peaceful is good, but he was only sixty-seven.

We had just bantered back and forth about the local power structure.  He and I were bosom buddies when it came to politics, putting us in a distinct minority.

He had the credentials, though; he was Dutch royalty and he could have played the game.

One of his ancestors came over on da first boat of settlers with his hona da future and first mayor and I don’t mean the Mayflower, though the ships sailed from the same country at different times.

He was big and bawdy and obscene and he tried to scandalize and I really liked him.

Boomer didn’t.  He frightened Boomer.  Every time we took Boomer to see him, Boomer would hide behind us and pull us toward the exit, which had just been the entrance.

He wanted out and away from the big guy in the white coat.

I can’t blame him.  My blood pressure would go up, too, if all the vet meant to me was thermometers up my butt, shots in my rear, scent gland squeezed, nails cut into the quick. Ouch!

What do I know?  I only get a physician’s digit up my rectum once a year and my blood pressure goes up just thinking about it.

I read part of the obit to Boomer, but my voice had to have had a tone of anxiety.  I was upset.  Boomer didn’t understand the obit, but he thought I was mad at him.  He lowered his ears and turned his eyes away.

It is all about tone with the dog.  Kids, too.  They used to say, “Dad, you have THE tone again.”  You don’t ever have to hit a dog; you should never hit a kid.  Just use THE tone.

Except this time.

I didn’t mean to have the tone.

“Oh, Boom, I’m not mad.  I’m just sad.  One of the really good guys died and Lord knows there is a shortage around here.”

Boomer looked at me and wagged his tail.  See, it’s all about the tone.