Member-only story
Kindness is a gift
We had our beloved black poodle for sixteen years, from when he was eight weeks old until, well, until the end.
For fifteen years he was perfect and did everything with us. He was smart, sweet and adorable. Until he wasn’t. While everyone who owns a pet knows they will probably outlive it, you still don’t think it will happen to you. No, your dog will live thirty years instead of just sixteen. But of course that’s because we can’t deal with the pain of losing a loyal and beloved family member. Our perfect dog started going downhill at about fifteen years, first losing his vision, then his hearing. He became incontinent, and wandered around, lost at night. It was heartbreaking to witness.
Though my husband seemed unwilling to acknowledge these developments, I knew someone, most likely me, would have to make the decision soon. I made an appointment at the vet; the one nobody wants to make, but has to. The three of us made our last drive together, with country music blasting.
At the vet’s office, my husband took Amigo in; I couldn’t do it. Instead, I sat on a hard bench in the small lobby and cried. The receptionist handed me a box of tissues. She then placed an easel on the counter with a sign on it:
