Don’t read this

My dear reader I have told some sad tales in the past but this one is the worst. Don’t read on if you are inclined to tears or, if you are, and do intend to read on then get the Kleenex ready. You have been warned.

My dog has been part of my life for the past 16 or so years. She is old and up until recently an active, happy sort of animal. For all this time she has been a good friend. She endured many a long run when I was on a get fit kick. She sat by me on the coldest of nights when I used to smoke (only outside the house). She served as a surrogate child for me and my beloved before we had a kid and after that she was a devoted friend for my boy. She has been a constant source of companionship in my life.

I could go on to tell a hundred stories of how she enriched my life, of her happy nature and intelligence but I wont. She is just a great dog I will leave it at that.

On Monday my partner called me at work. She was obviously upset. “What ‘s up?” “its Kosro, she wont get up”. I felt some part of the world shaking. I wanted to go home immediately but stayed at work. I held my emotions in check for the remainder of the day. I called home a couple of times during the afternoon. The old girl had managed to get up but was very shaky, confused and indecisive.

It was a long day. I got home to find my honey distracting the boy with the TV. At least he was no longer upset. I went to the garage. There was the dog lying, in her hammock, very still but breathing. Her eyes staring blindly. On the wall, directly above her bed, was a picture my son had drawn during the day. It was an image of the dogs face with the words ‘Kosro we love you’. Alone in the garage with my poor dog I broke down.

That evening, after the boy had gone to bed, we calmly discussed the next steps. We evaluated the when and where. It was surreal. Discussing the time, when would be most convenient, where would be her final resting spot. Truth be told we had discussed this subject before; she is an old dog, but, the harsh reality of planning the execution, the actual time, was something else.

The next day Kosro seemed to recover, she was up and walking around, though a bit wobbly. All plans were thankfully off.

Yesterday after I got home and fussed the dog. It was clear she wasn’t alright and would never be again. This dog that was bright and alert was now reduced to a wobbly, deaf and nearly blind shell. She fell into loops, forgetting where she was, what she was doing, endlessly caught in some pattern that only her confused mind could explain.

Last night we once more agreed and it fell on me to call the vet and make the necessary arrangements. So today, four days along this journey, I made the call. I know it is best for her but it hurts so much. Tomorrow, 1:30.

Kosro we love you.