Mood:
blueTopic: The H Word" (6)
Two A.M., almost exactly twenty hours ago.
Sam answered the telephone call, that Frodo already knew was directed to him. So did Sam.
Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog, both knew something was dreadfully wrong as Frodo's motorcar pulled out of the driveway of the Shire pointed toward the Houses of Healing.
The guard at the front gate informed Frodo that Bilbo had already been taken from the premises, and he told Frodo exactly what he had seen, and how the body was found.
The caregivers, of equal heart but different appearance from those who recognized Frodo when he visited during the time of the risen Sun, were quick to explain what they knew, and how much more they wished they could have done. Frodo wanted to kiss each and every one, for they are the noblest, and the bravest, of us all.
She who manned the night shift directed Frodo to the "Family Room," where the process for what would follow was laid upon in great detail. They were soon joined by "a member of the family," from Hospice. Frodo quickly determined that he had no need to see Bilbo in the morgue, unless it was required, and since it was not so required, he opted to remember his Mother as she had been only eight hours before. Having her remain one minute longer than necessary in such a place acceleraated his administrative decision-making.
The ticket-taker at the parking lot waved Frodo through, without charge. Frodo regretted prior reference to the greed of those whose fees were never less than astronomical.
Frodo returned to Bilbo's room, retrieved her purse, and dropped into it the items she had worn when carried out. He purposefully failed to lock the door as he went out, knowing that it would not happen, welcoming those who shared in Bilbos' final days to take anything that they might need or use.
The drive back to the Shire was the worst of moments. Only an auto here and there in the time before dawn, and the music on the radio not being appropriate for the mood of a Hobbit with a broken heart.
Frodo read the morning paper, and drank his coffee, and he again turned the automobile away, and proceeded to his duties at Mount Doom. Within two hours, Sam called, frantic, that Mick, the Wonder Dog, was in seizure, and that Frodo's immediate attention was required.
Dr. Porsches met Frodo at his office, and sent Frodo away while he tended to his favorite. The anxiety of the Wonder Dog is accentuated when suddenly he realizes that he cannor find Frodo.
The seizure was real, and it may signal an abnormal growth or a dysfunctional major organ. In any event, this was not the news that Frodo needed to hear on this, this dreaded day.
The hour now approaches that signals finality to September Morn, and Mick, the Wonder Dog has been laid on the royal throne, so that the Hobbit-Master can reach out and touch him, and stroke his softness throughout the night. The eyes of his friend call out for assurance, and an end to volts that occur without explanation.
Should you wander out before the Sun rises again, be not surprised to see the Hobbit carrying his friend to a suitable location for relief.
Anything, anytime, for a friend, Mother or Dog.
