Adios Llorona

Llorona died last night. We carried her down to a place in the cañada where the ground was soft enough to dig a deep enough hole to bury her in. She was wrapped in her towel and in the box we had put her in for the night hoping she would make it until this morning and maybe somehow come out danger; that the poison in her system would work it's way through and she would survive. But that didn't happen. When I went out to check on her last night around 9:30 she was gone. Her little body still holding some of the warmth of life, but her breath and her heartbeat no longer there.

I had thought that we had been lucky. The poisoned meat that had killed some of the neighbor dogs last week had been found and burned or buried. We had somehow escaped and still had our little loca with us. I had a dream during this time that Llorona had found a piece of the poisoned meat and that we were trying to save her. Then yesterday morning around 9:00, the little neighbor boy Llorona always played with yelled out to come see what Llorona had. It was a piece of the poisoned meat. We took it away and buried it and hoped that she hadn't eaten enough to make her really sick. I made her drink as much milk as she could and we waited. About an hour later she started staggering like a drunkard around the yard. I fed her more milk. A little later she vomited, and we hoped she had most of the poison out of her system. She couldn't really walk and her tongue was lolling out of her mouth, but she seemed to get better a little later and was walking more steadily. We watched and waited more. She seemed to be holding steady and we were hopeful. I tried to give her more milk but she didn't want any. So I found a water bottle and put the milk in there and forced her drink some. Then I thought that maybe most of the poison was out of her system probably, so I gave her some water. She was so thirsty. But then they told us not to give her water, because the water helps move the poison through her system. So I switched back to milk; prying her little jaws open to pour in a little at a time. Holding her mouth so she would swallow. Then sitting with her to see if it would stay in her system. But it was too little too late, or she ingested more meat than we thought, I don't know.

I keep trying to search for a reason, for a meaning, for some sort of silver lining, but I've yet to find one. It seems like such a senseless, cold-hearted act. Why? Why would someone do this? What purpose did it serve? Other than to strike pain into the hearts of those of us who had to watch our beloved animals suffer and die. I don't know if I'll ever have an answer.

All I know is there is a weight and pain in my chest that I don't know how to get rid of. And a feeling of having failed to protect a little being in my care. All I can hope is that she knew that I loved her and that her short life was joyful. Que en paz descansa, mi Lloronita. I miss you already.