Two months, paid in time

He announces it at the top: this is the last time the diary talks about the perrito ▸ 22:16. That morning, on the bus, he’d been weighing the injection against the DIY wheelchair and landed on “¿quién soy yo para jugar a ser Dios?” ▸ 44:38. They came home at 5:30 and found him under the tree, far from where a dog who couldn’t stand should be: he had dragged himself there, one last spike of energy, and died in the most natural spot in the yard ▸ 43:35. “Yo quería que se muriera naturalmente, y de cierta manera se murió naturalmente” ▸ 50:27.

The claim they get to make: when the stroke took half his body, the veterinarian was already talking euthanasia. They took responsibility instead, and play-as-therapy brought the motor function all the way back, a dog with a sideways face and a sideways walk returned to normal ▸ 47:54. “Le conseguimos dar dos meses más, fue a punta de tiempo” ▸ 48:18: months where the only outings were the gym, where two vegetarians shredded chicken breast by hand because the dog ate better with it ▸ 53:46, where they became fluent in his barks, thirst, popó, discomfort, play ▸ 48:32.

su teoría queda escrita: uno vive en tanto tiene ganas de vivir →

His theory, stated plainly: “uno vive en tanto uno tiene ganas de vivir” ▸ 24:00, and Thor’s ganas were always borrowed, walks first, then play with them, never the cat’s self-sufficient joy ▸ 28:04. The honest history stays in: adopted around 2014 with traumas, aggressive enough to nearly kill a schnauzer in front of him as a schoolkid ▸ 55:11, feared before he was loved. It ends with an edited video set to Sweet Dreams ▸ 52:32, a piece of papaya saved for the burial ▸ 51:42, and almost no regrets, “tal vez me hubiera gustado jugar más con él otro poquito” ▸ 58:06…