- Marcia Lee Laycock
My dog died yesterday. We got a call from the vet that she'd been hit by a car. She was still alive when we got there and we had to decide whether or not to try and keep her that way. She was an old dog ? somewhere around eighteen, we think, and she was in pain, so we did what was merciful.
Then I got home to find an email from an editor saying he was rejecting a manuscript I'd sent him. The words took a while to sink in.
I was expecting my dog to die soon. She was very old. I was pretty sure that manuscript would be rejected by that editor. It isn't ready to be published. But it was still a bad day. A day when things die always is.
But now that the day is over and I look back on it, I see there were some good things in that space of twenty-four hours. I was able to put my hand over my dog's beating heart one more time and cry a little before having to go on with a day full of things that needed to be done. I was able to be thankful for the fifteen years that little ball of fur and . . .