22.7.10

"NO! NO! Patch, you $%#^ing stupid $&*@head of a dog! #$&*! NO! Why would you do that?! ARGH!"
Dr Boss - compassionate, highly respected, easy going Dr Boss - is so livid I'm actually a bit frightened.
"You came to me 3am on death's door, pale as a sheet, tried to die in my consult room, and somehow managed to get through a rocky night on fluids. You had a bleeding splenic tumour, for goodness' sake, and you were just pouring out blood into your abdomen through it. Your owner took a huge chance, Patch, letting you go to surgery. He loves you so much. That was the bloodiest surgery I've ever done - it was just pouring out of your abdomen the second I cut into it. But you survived the anaesthetic somehow. Spleen out, two blood transfusions, intensive monitoring, and somehow once again you managed to survive another rocky night.
"So why? Why now, why ten minutes after I've called your owner to tell him you're okay to go home, why did you have to die now? #&$^, if you were going to do it, why couldn't it have been that night in my consult room? We tried so hard, I tried so hard to save you Patch. Why?"

Patch's eyes stare back blankly. There would never be an answer.

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