I awoke in the wee hours this morning, and finding myself in need of relieving the pressure on my bladder, lest it rupture, permeating my bedsheets with a fine mist of fish-oil-scented urine, I made my way to the lavatory. Toward the last leg of the venture (it usually takes me about forty-five seconds one way), I carefully studied the dark floor, as to avoid tripping over my canine companion, who happens to exactly match the hue of the carpet, especially in low-light conditions with poor sub-ocular visibility.
Having concluded that may way was unobstructed, I boldly stepped forth, only to tumble over said beast, lacerating my third toe in the process, which continued to ensanguinize the better part of my bathroom floor. I took special care to splash several drops of urine on the wound, so as to prevent bacterial infection. On the return trip, I turned on the light, so as to not injure myself further, when I realized that mine dog was splayed about in a rather awkward position.
It occurred to me that he was dead.
His head was craned up more than perpendicular to the rest of his body, say, one-hundred degrees, by my estimation, and his neck was neatly lodged between the wooden bars of the railing. I began to wonder if I had killed him by possibly exacerbating this already dangerous situation by, one would imagine, moving him abruptly and violently causing his neck to be broken, and, consequently, invoking death.
Returning to the comforts of mine bed, I decided he had most likely died previously, for I remembered hearing no loud snapping noises that would indicate the destruction of his spinal column. He did have cancer, after all.
I am not looking for sympathy, I only wish to know that I am not alone in my experience. Who else has tripped over the corpse of a close friend, and wondered if you had killed them? Feel free to keep the details vague, pending ongoing criminal investigations.
Thank you for your empathy and consideration in this troubling time.
