Apr 09 2009
∞
“I’d give a million dollars to [shit] normally.”
After receiving an increased dosage of pain medication, Dad needed another enema last week and the opiates began to bind him up. “I’d give a million dollars to go normally, just once,” he told me.
I just saw the dog net door, tail engorged with tumors and eyes white-cloudy with blindness, standing on the lawn, shaking over a pile of his own shit. He looked confused but accomplished.
It would appear that on our deathbeds, we and dogs find pleasure in once-seemingly-simple accomplishments.
