A reminder that I'm human

At 11:30 today, Alice had another vet's appointment to check up on that zit she got last week. Just a usual day in the lives of the Gazelle and Alice, frankly. We spend so much time with our vet that we're putting her daughter through college, even though she's only a year old. She's a genius. And Carolina, the receptionist is just a delight.

So, Alice and I are sitting there in the waiting room, opposite a guy of about 60 and his huge Newfoundland-type, Lucky. Out of the blue, an elderly woman rushes in (and so as not to unwittingly cause offense to anyone, I would estimate her age around 75), up to the desk, and sobs "I think she's dead already."

Carolina ran outside with the woman, and brought her dog in on a big blue carry-stretcher. It turns out her beloved dog was thankfully not yet passed, but our amazing vet was able to work her magic and put her out of her misery while Mommy and Daddy held a paw each.

I did my best to keep it together, retain composure and that stiff upper lip, but failed. The woman was distraught, understandably, and Carolina had tears in her eyes and just kept saying "I'm so sorry." I know death is a part of life, but I felt so bad for them.

I've recently become increasingly aware that the usual things don't seem to be upsetting me in the way they should. Cue much introspection. Movies don't get to me, nor music. Nothing. This experience this morning was a reminder that I am human, whether I like it or not. I've done my best to put memories of similar experiences out of my head, but I can still imagine those two elderly people going home to an empty house, and it breaks my heart. I miss my Becky and Murphy. Both Lucky and Alice got extra cuddles this morning, that's for sure.