I’ve violated myriad long-standing convictions about cyber-eulogies in the past 12 hours. Let this be an addition to the list of my offenses, and bear with me as the sentence I feel I’ve left hanging in the air is snatched down and tacked to this post. We at Dovecote hope to effuse a humanness and empathos that eschews the vague wall often built between a business and its patrons. It’s for this reason that I come to our blog to expel a quick, doleful note. All is not full of levity and fun and the big, bold light of youth in our camp, presently.
At 9PM last evening the four of us sat clutching our phones in trepidation as a sorrowful river of texts flowed in. Our dearest friend and boss wrote that he was having to put down his 15 week old puppy, our office mascot, jester, and newest, closest friend. Since the Saturday before we’d all been on high-alert after hearing that a minor illness had blossomed into a rare and vicious skin infection. We sat by two days later and virtually held hands when it came to pass that Meatball’s right front leg was going to have to be amputated. It’s a dangerous surgery and one with a low-success rate, but was the only recourse that’d give our boy a fighting chance.
Our fearless Meatball lived through the surgery, but not without complication. The infection was ruthless and his young, helpless body had nothing left with which to stop it spreading. At 15 weeks, Carter had to call off the circuit of IVs and tubes, hold our little boy’s remaining arm, and say goodbye. This wildly sudden downturn has blindsided all of us, left us feeling bereft, aching for some recompense in the form of unlikely good news. I’ll keep you posted on when that news comes. Until then, keep Carter and his family (us included) in your hearts. We’ll be here getting through it all together, without the little ball of pudge and light and warmth that once — for a short but dramatically uplifting stint — made it so easy to laugh away the shit and spume of the day-to-day and opt, instead, to endorse the easy affirmation incumbent in belief in the good of the world. It was radiating out of every end of him. Let spill forth a handful of kibble on your respective street-corners. Meatball, you will be missed, you righteous, corpulent ball of pure, uncut goddammed joy.
Thanks for hearin’ me out, friends.
posted by admin at 12:07 pm (0 comments)