The one thing Joe knew for sure is that his marriage was over forever. He thanked God he never had kids with Connie. She already took the dogs—a dark-grey miniature female Schnauzer they named Smoky, and Pudge, a black Lhasa-Apso/Cocker-Spaniel half-breed that Joe was particularly fond of. He picked Pudge out of a litter of six dogs. Pudge was sitting over in the corner all by himself looking sad. Joe had to look closely through the strands of black hair that were partially covering the tiny puppy’s dark brown eyes to see the sorrow in them. Joe pointed to the corner of the dog den and said, “I want that one.” He was just ten weeks old and could fit into Joe’s cupped hands. Now, Joe knew how tiny Pudge felt sitting in the corner all alone. His eyes started to water knowing the life he knew was gone forever. He already missed his dogs, his ex-wife, and home. 

 

The two things Joe did manage to take away from the old house were the cats. That was the agreement, Connie gets the dogs and Joe gets the cats. It seemed like a fair deal because Smoky and Pudge were real attached to Connie but not as attached as Joe was to Pudge. Betty, a long hair cat and Danielle, a short black and white hair, both colors almost evenly distributed on each cat, were both hiding somewhere in the house. The trauma of moving was just too much stress. Apparently they also did not like being uprooted and transplanted in a new and strange environment. Betty was hit by a car the previous summer. She lost sight in one eye and about half her body weight—she just would not eat. Joe saw her on the side of the road on his way back from work and thought the worse. He got out of his truck and went over to pick her up. As soon as he bent down and touched her, Betty let out an ominous hissing sound, finally surrendering to the familiar voice of her owner. Joe rushed her to the veterinarian clinic, amazed she was still alive. The veterinarian told him she would need constant attention and have to be fed by hand for at least six weeks. She would also never be able to see again out of her right eye. “Just fix her doctor and I’ll take care of the rest,” Joe said with urgency.

 

Joe brought Betty home the next day to the delight of Connie. Pudge and Smokey did not seem to notice. He put a small cat crate next to his bed so he could keep a close eye on Betty. Things were going smooth for about a week. Then suddenly she refused to eat. It looked like she was ready to give up. Joe called the vet and he said there was nothing he could do. “If you can’t get her to swallow some food she will die,” he said.