Saying Goodbye to My Dog

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Yesterday she was running and playing. Today she is lying on her right side, head resting motionless on the quilt she loved and destroyed as a playful pup. Her tail wags as I enter the room. Her left eye following my every move. I try to calm her fears and confusion, stroking her head, kissing her gentle face, whispering that everything is OK, although I’m lying and she knows it. The veterinarian enters the room. It is time to say our final goodbyes. I plant one last kiss on her tawny head and rest my hand on her outstretched paw. The final moments of her life, determined now by the last push of the syringe. She does not linger; with one last exhalation I feel her spirit desert her tired body. A wave of sorrow overcomes me. Gutted and overwhelmed with grief, I let the tears flow. She seems at peace but I don’t want to abandon my trusted companion in this bright, sterile room. I shut off the lights and sit with her for a few minutes. Twelve years of memories muddled with the sadness of today’s events. My grief; the price I must pay for her unconditional love.