12:18 a.m.


You were a good dog.

But, there comes a time when your spirit is stronger than your frail body. I couldnít watch you suffer needlessly to pacify my own selfish desire. You gave selflessly to me. You listened intently when I needed to vent. You consoled me silently with your wise mahogany eyes. Your altruistic ways kept me from harm when I was ten and home alone...and every day since. You never wanted anything more than to make me happy. Well, except for the occasional cookie.

As I drove you to the clinic, you looked out the window. Excited just to get to go for a ride. Iím sorry I didnít bring you more often; I forgot how much you loved car rides. I neglected a lot of things as you grew older...

I carried you in the clinic, crying. Not for you, but for me. I knew in my heart youíd be better off. But what about me? What am I supposed to do without you? How can I get up each morning and not see you? How can I take the other dogs for a walk without you? Iím sure theyíll notice your absence, too.

As the thick pink solution flowed into your vein, your head fell slowly in my lap. Iíve done this hundreds of times before...itís nothing new. Yet, this was different. This was my decision. This was a culmination of my actions, not someone elseís. Of course, you had to make it hard. You had to fight to stay alive. You kept breathing...forced us to do a cardiac stick. Of course, you were gone by then. It was just the mechanics of your body slowly coming to a stop. You didnít feel any pain then. Thatís what I have to tell myself. Thatís what everyone has to tell themselves when this happens, right?

As I placed your limp, lifeless body in the black trash bag, I wept again. But this time, it was for you. For the things youíll miss. For the suffering Iíd put you through. For everything you and I will never experience again.

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