JANUARY 14
Today is the day after Lily ran away and I give up on her, me, and the idea that I can help the poor, underweight dog get better, get along, and fit in. I called a trainer and we shall see how lost I am, but at least Lily is home, and at least I can start to understand the problem she has with Bandit. I can't handle the fights and the damp cloth as I draw blood away from Bandit's eyes.
Images burst in my imagination -- strobes of scenes I do not control. For some reason I continually see Lily beside me in the truck, her head turned back to stare at the floor, window, floor, then me. She is in the passenger's seat and we leave the vet's office and suddenly poor Lily deflates. Her body folds against the seat and she holds the posture of someone eternally waiting.