Friday, February 17, 2012
I knelt beside/ next to Diggity. He made no effort/ work to get up. His neck was a pulpy mass/ body of matter of blood, and his rib cage rose and fell unevenly/ raggedly. Dad scooped/ dig up him into his arms and staggered/ walk falteringly up the beach. Mum and Lucy were already in the car with the hatch/ Boot up and engine running. The vet said Diggity had lost heaps/ pile of blood. The outlook/ point of view wasn’t good. When the phone rang/ encircle later that evening, nobody was in a hurry to answer/ reply. But Diggity did survive.