If he needs to be carried to the sunny spot in the dining room I am here, waiting in this quiet house for later. If he needs a bowl of water set before his furry nose, or a fresh towel beneath him for when his bladder control is lost, I am here, watching his breathing and hoping to see him go still. If he needs anything else I cannot think of what it is, except the one thing we will give him later tonight, when the family has gathered.
If he needs to be told he will be missed, I will do so, but he does not. Those words would be for me, as he knows already. He knows everything, including that it’s time. If he could, he would drag himself into the woods and disappear, leaving us to imagine his bones being picked over by birds and bugs and rats. I am thankful the fence contained him one last time.
If he needs to be told he is loved, I must let my hands do the work, as his hearing is long gone and my touch is all that makes his tail wag today. I will tell him again and again throughout the day, until he can feel me no more, then I will tell him one long, last time before the warmth starts to subside and we have to leave him to the technicians who will see to him after.
And if he feels the need to apologize for causing all this trouble, as the look in his eyes says he does, I will simply touch him again on his face and on the beautifully soft white part under his neck, and ask him, “What trouble?” and I will lie with him until it’s time to go.
FJS,
That pretty well sums up what we went through with our beloved pooch about a year-and-a-half ago. It’s never easy, but it does help when all involved know it’s time.
I’m sorry to hear it. It’s just about a year since I got the bad news about a mine, and in June it’ll be a year since he died, and I still go white when I think of him, or hear of anyone else’s dying dog story. The other day I was reading Dog is my Co-Pilot on the bus, and had to hurriedly leave off one story and flip over to another, lest I violate several strict Canadian anti-public-emotion ordnances.
When the inevitable time comes to let go, it is the human heart that struggles most with it. We, as a species, like think we are more intelligent and closer to perfection than our ‘animal’ friends. In truth, it seems more accurate that we hide from what they readily embrace.
May his passing be swift and gentle. May your heart heal quickly and your mind remember him always with warmth. Bless his soul!
Here I am at work, doing my best not to tear up in front of my co-workers while I think of all those friends I’ve lost over the years. Very poetic words, those are.
