(174) Saying Goodbye

I had a run in with my cowardice, today. 
It was fine; just a handshake and a menacing glare.

I stood facing a needle the size of my pinky, and a bag of fluids I’ll eventually hang somewhere in my house, and cowardice popped in to make sure I still knew it had no faith in me. 
 It just wanted to say hi.

We’re losing Pouch, because she’s old and her kidneys are nearly dead. 
 Nearly.
 She’s small and frail and otherwise the same, and we just want to keep her comfortable. We want her cozy, and we’ll cuddle her and hand feed her and fuck my cowardice because I’ll use that big needle to keep her hydrated 
 if it means she will slip from our home to peace without catching her dignity on the door.

I had a run in with my cowardice today. 
 But today I sent it packing
 Sometimes the honor of saying goodbye means more than the flimsy panic of my seedling convictions.