Turns for the Worse

The smell is getting worse.  I buy three packets of incense, douglas fir scented to remind us of Oregon.
  What used to be a clear bump on the left side of Charlie’s mouth is now an exposed mash of lip, flesh, tumor, and infection.  The melanoma seemingly violating every healthy cell.  When cleaned, the bulbous tumor immediately leaks blood.  The space between Charlie’s lower left jaw and lower left lip becomes increasingly wide, filled by black cancer so hard to the touch I wonder if it isn’t inside her jawbone as well.

She’s drained.  She shows no sign of pain when left alone, though her normally patient demeanor turns jumpy during cleanings.  Cleaning involves a syringe with extended tip, much like a water pick, filled with solutions and sprayed in the affected area to loosen old food and impurities.  I have to hold her tightly with left hand and arm while spraying with my right hand.  She tries to wiggle away.  I hold tighter.  Solution sprays into her black, bloody, cancerous mouth then back up into my face.  I want to get this done quickly.  Goddamnit I want this done quickly.
  Dry her chin.  Blood.  Apply some pressure, but it keeps slowly oozing.  It’ll stop, just let her go lay down.  Lay down Charlie.  She takes her place in the bed I bought her in Oregon.  It’s dark green.  She likes it.  It must be stained with blood again. I light the incense next to the bed.  Her smell, the smell of the bed, it all burns the back of my throat.  I pet her head.  I love you girl. I won’t touch around her mouth.  I’m disgusted.  I love you girl.  No hugs.  I love you girl.  Look at me patting your head like a child afraid to be bitten.  I love you girl.  Off the boys’ beds.  I love you girl. No more sleeping with us.  I love you girl.  I change your dirty water swirled with bloody saliva and particles.  I love you girl.  I bathed you two days ago and your fur is matted with tumorous stench.  I love you girl.  But here you are.  I wait for a clear sign from you.  I love you girl.  I hope for a sign from you.  I feel guilt for that hope.

Have you given me a sign?

I love you girl.