Loved to the End and Beyond — Our Big Dog, Brooklyn Dodger
I tried everything to keep him a little longer. But it was time to let go.
My hands rested gently on his furry head. The feel of his soft curly hair between my fingers comforted and saddened me. I hoped my soft touch was comforting him. “I love you,” I whispered knowing he couldn’t hear me. He’d been deaf for months now. I whispered anyway. He had always been good at knowing what I was thinking. I was sure he knew now.
His eyes were closed. They had always been so perky, full of mischief. They had been dull for months now. He was breathing heavily and lay perfectly still on the dog hospital floor.
I felt his misery.
I had tried everything to take it away. Keep him with us a little longer. But those “a little longer” times were over. Now, I could only sit next to him on his favorite blanket, lay my hands on his head so he knew I was with him. Not to leave him alone before being alone was the only way to be.
I looked up briefly, not wanting my eyes to leave him for too long. I nodded. I watched with a cool distance as the injection was carefully and gently delivered. I shuddered when he shuddered. I pressed my hands a little more firmly. I’m here. I will miss you. You are loved.
His suffering ended. My mourning began.
