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| 2005-2016 |
So, I got the news yesterday: an emergency in Spain. My little Dax had been found at the gate, having been ripped up pretty badly. No one is exactly sure what happened, but the working theory is that he was attacked by bird of prey (he's a teeny one, that's a fact and the big eagles have been becoming rather prominent in the past few years. The mountain is hunting ground. They tend to come flying in from the direction of Ronda), which ripped up his leg badly, indicating that he might have been pulled from two sides and broke his spine in the process. He was in terrible pain, and the little one had to be put down, so that was that.
Strange how distance doesn't make this sort of thing any better, does it? Still feels horrid, and I gotta admit that the way the furry one went kept me up most of the night, making work not easy this morning.
I think my colleagues noticed my state of mind, but save for one, I didn't feel like explaining why I was uncharactaristically quiet...part of th reason being that I wasn't sure if I could keep from bursting into tears on the spot. Not a good thing to do at work, I'm thinking.
Anyway, this bit of news ruined any fantasy I might have harbored of going to fetch him at some point, after we get a permanent place for ourselves. Shaite!
Poor Daxie...to him, life always was one big adventure; let's hope the next one will be, too.
