Not Yet.

I don't know what caused me to wake up from my nap. It was 9:30, I remember looking at the clock. I got up and started down the stairs to find where everyone had gone to when I heard a sound I hope to never have to hear again. Brakes screeching. A dog yelping. Loud voices, people reacting to something. Rugby. Where was Rugby? I don't even remember going down the rest of the steps, or outside.

"Where is he, where is Rugby, whatinthehelljusthappened??!!"

Ryan was flying around with this crazy look in his eyes, like he might fly apart, like he had no idea who he was even. He was coming toward me up the front porch stairs with his camera in hand and for some reason I took it from him. "RYAN!" I looked down to the side of the porch and there was Rugby, huddled up behind the tall garden grasses and shaking, ears pinned flat back against his head. There were all of these people on the sidewalk for some reason, and a woman was screaming "I'm sorry!!" over and over and holding her mouth. Ameer's mom was next to her repeating, "they didn't even stop!"

"Ryan, get Rugby in the car." He kept going for the front door, I had to physically stop him and make him look at me, "GETRUGBYINTHECARNOW," in order to snap him back to some conscious plane of reality. I ran in to get the keys and by the time I came out of the house they were in the car and ready to go, the lady on the sidewalk still apologizing for some reason. All of the good citizens standing around to see that we got down the road okay became a collective blur and I tried to stay removed from the situation, because one of us had to drive. Once inside the car smelled like death and I cursed myself for even thinking that. Ryan was doubled over sobbing, I hadn't even gotten a good look at Rugby yet. He was moving around back there, pacing. That seemed to be a good sign.

"Where are we going?"

"Douds," I replied firmly, as though somehow they would be open at that hour, as though there would be a doctor and examination team there waiting for us.

"Are they open? What do we do if they're not open??"

"Take him to Mom's." It's funny how you can be 26 and your mom still has some magic ability to fix any wound, however serious.

We pulled into a dark and empty Doud's parking lot and I even got out of the car to check the door, still sure that our rescue crew of emergency vets were in there anticipating our arrival. No such luck. Back in the car and down 58 to mom and dad's house. Aimee would be over there. Don't cry, Emily, you don't have to cry. You're the one who can't crack up. Somebody has to remain calm and bark out orders as though they have any idea what they're doing.

As soon as I saw her the waterworks started, they were all in the tv room, Aimee and Bobbi too. "Can I talk to you," I managed and backed right back out of the room. Once apprised of the situation she immediately sprang into action, where is he, is he walking, ok, let's get some water and peroxide, we'll take him into the happy house.

He paced around for awhile and seemed fine; scared and shook-up, but the same smiling Rugby I was afraid we'd lost. She fed him water out of her hand for twenty minutes and he calmed down enough to recognize Aimee and be excited when she came in wearing somebody's cop uniform shirt and a worried look on her face. Bobbi trailed her muttering something about how baby aspirin wouldn't hurt him, and Rugby went up to greet her too. I kept wondering how he could possibly even be there. How he could be walking. People drive down our little stretch of vine street like it's the Lorain County Speedway. That little yelp he cried out has probably taken eight years off of my life, has cut some deep and fragile part of my heart. He has a gash on his hind leg that's not even very deep, and that's it. How is he even walking at all? How can a person even begin to comprehend what a single solitary instant can mean. My head is full of rocks and Rugster is upstairs on his bed, watching Ryan. He is sorry, you can tell that by looking in his eyes. I think he understands that instant. What a fragile and tenuous grasp we have on this thing, existence.