An Unexplainable Feeling

The current prompt at dVerse Poets Pub is to write poetry as a vehicle for emotion, which is pretty much what most poetry is anyway. When I read the prompt, I immediately knew the emotion I wanted to write about, but wasn’t sure how I wanted to write about it. And I’ve spent most of the last two days making cookies and deviled eggs, avoiding the emotion I’m struggling with. Then, with 3 hours left to post, I realized what I wanted to write. So here is my haibun for the prompt.

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Our vet says it’s for the best and will make him feel much better. And the veterinary ophthalmologist didn’t say it was the only option, but she did suggest it was the best for him. I try to tell myself it’s no big deal. As I said to both vets and several other people I’ve talked to about it, it’s not like I’ve never had a one-eyed dog before. Bette lost an eye when she was only 7 weeks old, and she lived to be the best 18-year-old Cocker Spaniel there ever was. So why do I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach now that we’ve made the appointment? Why am I second guessing whether maybe, just maybe, having to have drops in his eye several times a day for the rest of his life might be better than having that eye removed? He can’t see out of it anyway; hasn’t for years with that cataract.

Perhaps it’s the regret that we didn’t have the cataract removed years ago, which might have prevented glaucoma now. But as my cousin Noryce says, you can’t go back to Tuesday, or when Roman was only 3 and first showed signs of the cataract. You can’t go back, you can only move forward, even if that means doing something you’d rather not do when you know it’s in the best interest of someone, or some dog, else. But still I’m sad—that’s not really the right word, I don’t even know what the right word is—I’m angry that I can’t go back and do it all again, avoid this inevitable, remaining option. I love my little dog, and I’ll love him just as much, if not more, when he only has one eye. Maybe that’s the crux of what I’m feeling—love and empathy. I’ll hold onto that and to the faith that God loves him, too. He is, after all, named after one of the books of God’s Holy Word.

Turning a blind eye
to the pain and suffering
is not an option