(no subject)
Jul. 16th, 2007 09:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
works_in_spaceShortly before Captain Kirk's shift was to begin, he got a call from a vet in Montana. Butler, his great dane these last nine years, was dying. The old dog's heart simply gave out, as happened ofter with larger breeds. And even with medical and technological advances, even with the ability to clone a new heart from the old, there was little that could be done for a dog that wouldn't bring it to confusion and pain.
So Jim said his goodbyes to Butler, who seemed only a shell and not the cheerful, frisky beast of so many years ago. And he gave the word to the doctor to put his old friend to sleep. Only the unexpected but welcome presence of Antonia, who loved Butler as much as Jim did, made it bearable. It was strange to see her for the first time since they broke off their relationship, but it was good to know that the connections they had were not totally lost, even if the commitment was. They watched as Butler closed his eyes for the last time, and later toasted his memory over coffee in a small cafe near the vet's office in Helena.
Afterwards, he stopped by his uncle's ranch, and made arrangements for Butler to be buried in the woods where Jim first met him, an enthusiastic pup chasing Jim's horse for days. He didn't usually think about whether your buried pets, but it seemed right. Jim made a point of not checking on the other Great Danes on the ranch, many the children and grandchildren of Butler. Today wasn't a day to do that.
At night, Jim toaated Butler's memory again, with McCoy and with something stronger. He already missed Butler, but took solace from knowing that this time, the loss of a friend was not untimely, was sad but not tragic. And he knew that at some point, when he visited the ranch, or when he checked back on the cabin he and Antonia once shared, he'd be waiting to hear a bark from the distance, and there wouldn't be any.
So Jim said his goodbyes to Butler, who seemed only a shell and not the cheerful, frisky beast of so many years ago. And he gave the word to the doctor to put his old friend to sleep. Only the unexpected but welcome presence of Antonia, who loved Butler as much as Jim did, made it bearable. It was strange to see her for the first time since they broke off their relationship, but it was good to know that the connections they had were not totally lost, even if the commitment was. They watched as Butler closed his eyes for the last time, and later toasted his memory over coffee in a small cafe near the vet's office in Helena.
Afterwards, he stopped by his uncle's ranch, and made arrangements for Butler to be buried in the woods where Jim first met him, an enthusiastic pup chasing Jim's horse for days. He didn't usually think about whether your buried pets, but it seemed right. Jim made a point of not checking on the other Great Danes on the ranch, many the children and grandchildren of Butler. Today wasn't a day to do that.
At night, Jim toaated Butler's memory again, with McCoy and with something stronger. He already missed Butler, but took solace from knowing that this time, the loss of a friend was not untimely, was sad but not tragic. And he knew that at some point, when he visited the ranch, or when he checked back on the cabin he and Antonia once shared, he'd be waiting to hear a bark from the distance, and there wouldn't be any.
