It almost broke us. Really. It did. And I ain’t lyin’.

Juicy-Fruit, our pet possum was dying. She had but months, may even weeks or even days to live. We were devasted, heart-broken. I bawled on her bosom, Dinah bawled on mine. What were we to do?

Juicy-Fruit was fine until last Tuesday, well Monday. Sunday, really. That’s when she started to slow down. Sunday was the first day she didn’t finish the fried chicken that Dinah prepared just for her. We eat our chickens baked, you see. Juicy-Fruit preferred fried, and didn’t eat but one of the boneless breasts, and hardly any of the smashed taters and gravy. And she took a little bit longer to do her business.

That was Sunday. By Tuesday morning, it was obvious that she wasn’t feeling well at all. Poor Juicy-Fruit could barely get up from her My Pillow. We were first in line at the veterinarian’s office that very morning. Seeing us outside, Mary, the receptionist unlocked and welcomed us in. She called for Dr. McWillowbucks to come see to Juicy-Fruit immediately, though a couple with an Airedale behind us had the first appointment.

Returning with x-ray and lab results within minutes, Dr. Willowbucks had terrible news. Juicy-Fruit needed a total skeletal bone replacement. The news almost broke us. We could only hope and dream that a donor could be found in time. I’m ashamed to admit, but Dinah and I, both, secretly considered driving the back roads … Well, never mind about that. It turned out that a donor was available that very day.

The terrible news about Juicy-Fruit’s horrible fate almost broke us, but then we learned about a donor. We didn’t know that all marsupials were acceptable donors. For a tidy donation of nineteen thousand dollars to the local zoo, an opossum would be made available for scientific study. Oh, opossum versus possum? Simply the class of neighborhood of residency. Considering our cottage on our gravel road, Juicy-Fruit was a possum. Regardless, until receiving the life-saving call, we spent the entire morning on one another’s’ bosoms taking turns wailing away.

The nineteen thousand, well, what was savings for if not to save the life of our precious Juicy-Fruit. What kind of person puts a dollar value on their family member?

“Three hundred kajillion dollars.” I repeated to Dinah. “The operation will cost three hundred kajillion dollars.”

Dinah turned white. I thought she was going to throw up. Fortunately for me, I was closer to the bathroom, hugging the porcelain throne. Dinah made it out the back door.

We didn’t get nearly enough, not even close to Blue Book value for our family car, but we had the old truck that would just have to make do. Our banker was happy to begin paperwork for us to refinance our family homestead-cabin-turned-cottage. We’d recently financed it for remodeling: all composite laminate flooring in case Juicy-Fruit well… and a pet door and tunnel-proof fencing. We would have to give up last year’s low interest rate, and we would have to pay for a new survey and home inspection, but he would add it all into the loan. The bank would also afford us a signature loan to cover the required cash deposit. I have to say … it almost broke us.

With a very nice letter from the bank, Dr. Willowbucks accepted a post-dated check: three hundred kajillion dollars, plus tax. We hocked our wedding rings and all Dinah’s earrings to cover the tax. I say hocked but I really mean sold. We would never, ever have money enough to redeem them from the pawn shop. That almost broke us. I’ll tell you. We both cried onto one another’s bosoms some more.

The day finally came. We had to wait until the following Monday. Arguing for Friday, the day we got the bank letter, was useless, Dr. Willowbucks was buying a new boat that day and would be out on it all weekend. That almost broke us, watching Juicy-Fruit suffer all weekend. Although, she was looking a bit better. She finished both chicken breasts, all her taters ‘n gravy, and wanted some of the cat food that Dinah and I warmed for our own meal.

Dr. Willowbucks’ clinic wasn’t far, just over in the next county. There are three veterinarians closer, but … well, they all … well, I’ll just say it. They’ve asked us not to bring any of our pets into their offices. See, before Juicy-Fruit we had … Anyway, all that isn’t relevant to today’s ordeal. Suffice it to say, when the third one virtually tossed us on our keesters, that almost broke us.

The day finally came. We were to be there at 9:55. Well you know were ready by 5:55. We had Juicy-Fruit all spruced up and ready to go. You would’ve thought she was her normal self the way she fought her bath. We didn’t have the required co-pay that the E.R. required, so Dinah sewed up my hand herself. Forty-six stitches. That almost broke us, first me flinching and jerking around, and Dinah for having to slap me silly to make me stay still.

Dr. Willowbucks being in the next county wasn’t such a big deal. It wasn’t that far, actually. The problem was that it was over the mountain. It was a nice hard-top road, but still, it was going to be asking a lot out of our old truck. We started early, an hour earlier than necessary.

The truck was doing fine until just almost to the top of the last incline. It almost made it. We didn’t have enough money to buy gasoline, so I syphoned some out of our lawnmower. And for good measure, I poured in the last few drops of lamp oil from our tiki lamps. And the last of Dinah’s medicinal whiskey. It was nearly enough. We almost made it.

Had we been able to top the crest, all would have been good, the rest of the way would have been all downhill and we could have coasted right into Dr. Willowbucks’ parking lot. But we didn’t. By the time I got the backwards downhill careening vehicle under control, we were at the bottom of the two-mile descent with a flat tire. The tire part didn’t much matter because I’d taken out the spare to save weight. But we were out of gas anyway, so there wasn’t anything we could do but start walking and hope for a Good Samaritan.

By the time we crested that two-mile mountain climb, we were almost broken, huffin’ and puffin’, the both of us, too spent to cry on one another’s bosoms. We had Juicy-Fruit in her travel cage, and wouldn’t you know, she wanted to use the potty. Well what kind of parent would refuse that?

Not expecting to be taking Juicy-Fruit for a walk, we failed to bring along her harness leash. All I had was my belt. Wasn’t hard to slip it over her little head. The impossible part was keeping her little head inside the loop. No sooner had Juicy-Fruit’s feet hit the ground and she was off and headed into the woods. It was all I could do to keep her lassoed. But I did, a couple good hard pulls, and well … I’d never have to pull again. Poor old Juicy-Fruit. I’ll tell you, that broke us. We are broke, broke, broke.