He's Dead, Jim

A bit of sad news to report here at From The Ashes HQ. One of our minor characters has unfortunately passed on. It is with more than a little sadness that I have to say that Colby the dog has died.

I was chillaxin on the front porch with Jet after an early evening walk. I heard someone come out the front door but paid them no mind, in case it was Ms. Morbid Fear. Turns out, it was The Hellcat, who I've scrupulously managed to avoid for months and months now. I thought this would be no different, when he surprised me by stepping up and offering me a pet food coupon. I was startled, but managed to politely decline the surprising contact. It was then that he informed me that Colby was recently put down. Doubly surprised, I merely shrugged and turned away. He quickly went on his way. But I was incredibly sad. I didn't ask the circumstances. I imagine his spinal cord problems got worse. Maybe he could no longer walk. Perhaps something else happened.

I had Colby marked as a total Red Shirt from the very beginning. I knew his days were numbered and I had imagined this scenario happening sooner rather than later. Colby had been frequently hurt or sick the whole time he lived at my place. Even though The Hellcat managed to recover from the worst effects of his meth addiction, the dog had obviously been neglected. He would be left alone for a day or two at a time. I imagine at times it was longer. He wasn't always walked and frequently went to the bathroom in the room he stayed in. Sometimes he was fed balls of bread and leftover gravy when there was no money. It was painful to witness and yet it would have been over-stepping to intervene. And there was no doubt that Colby loved The Hellcat unconditionally. Despite the neglect, I'm sure the reverse was true as well.

In my anticipating this news, the hurt and hurtful side of me imagined a decidedly unsympathetic response. I thought I would express my surprise that the poor thing lived as long as he did. I thought that would really hurt if I said it. And I found that I couldn't. I thought about it. I dismissed the notion. I couldn't imagine being that nasty, no matter how angry I am or was. If somebody ever said something like that to me, I'd be devastated. So I simply shrugged. And turned away.

If it wasn't for Colby, I wouldn't have realized how much I loved having a dog in the house. If it wasn't for Colby, I wouldn't have Jet. He had a great face and the most expressive eyes. There were whole sentences in his eyes. Colby was a great little dog. Rest In Peace, little dude.