Herman

She has been crying for days. I wish she would listen when I tell her it will be okay, but the tears fill her head. I know that I am dying, I have known for a while, but she’s only just realized. I’m not scared, or angry, I just feel sad. Sad for her. I can see her heart is breaking, her eyes say so much, her murmurs and strokes are full of all the wishes she had for us, for our future. I whisper to her, tell her it isn’t goodbye, not really. I have always been with her. Across continents and centuries, we have always found each other. Our souls know one another…maybe that’s why she can’t hear me, our bond goes beyond words. But still, I wish she would stop and hear me.

It is our last night together, I know tomorrow we will part, at least for this lifetime. She’s let me onto the couch, she feeds me popcorn, my favorite. Her body curls around me, warmth and comfort, and I can’t help my tail from twitching.

“Time for bed, sweet boy,” she says, tears rimming her eyes.

I don’t bother saying anything, I just hop from the couch and bound up the stairs after her. It feels like any other night, and that sends a pang through my heart. Who will make sure she gets to bed? Who will make sure she gets up on time? She tucks me into my bed and nuzzles my neck, kisses me head, looks at me with that sad face, then smiles. She’s trying not to scare me.

Sleep evades me and I pace our room all night, listening to her soft snores. She thinks I’m the one who snores, ha! Finally, I lay down on the blanket she keeps on the floor next to the bed, just so I can be nearer to her.

When dawn breaks, I give a little whine, she always listens to that. She cracks her eyes open and pats the bed for me to hop up. I whine again, I can’t jump up there anymore, it’s too painful. She hears my thoughts and crawls out from the blankets to crouch on the floor.

“Good morning, my love,” she croons, taking my face in her hands, “I’m going to miss you so much.” And she cries, hard and shaking into my fur.

“I will miss you too, but it’s not forever,” I whisper. Her sobs are too loud and she doesn’t hear.

We go downstairs for breakfast, and I try not to limp, I don’t want to add to her sorrow. I can tell she’s putting on a face, singing the little song. Who’s a dog? You’re a dog. Who’s the best boy? You’re the best boy. She had sung that song since she first brought me home, eleven years ago. We have had a lot of adventures in this life. I was her best man, I watched over her puppies when she brought them home, we’ve moved from the hot, humid climate where I was born, to the wet and gray one where she was. We’ve eaten…a lot. She has always remembered to share with me, especially my favorites.

She lays a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. “Thank you,” I say, but she’s turned away, clutching the countertop, and I can tell her thoughts are too loud.

I eat the wonderful meal she’s made me, and I try to savor it, but I’ve never been good at that. My tail tells her everything, and I can see that she’s pleased to make me so happy.

Soon, it’s time to go. She always asks if I want to go, but she should know by now that I always want to go. He’s there too, and they’re both looking at me with those dinner plate eyes. “It’s okay,” I tell them, but they are ushering me out the door.

It feels good to go, to see the world flying by the windows, and I take it all in. This has been an especially wonderful life, I have never gone a day without uninhibited, endless love. She reaching her hand back to pet me and the tears are there again. I just kiss her hand.

We reach our destination, and I feel ready. I know why we’re here. I say hello as the woman at the front desk greets us, and she returns the greeting. She hears me.

The room they take us too is quiet, but it’s soon filled with sobs. I rest my head on her knee, just like I did the first time we met. I tell her again that it’s alright. They are both hugging me when the others come in. They poke me with something sharp and say that we will have some time to say goodbye.

“We will meet again,” I say.

Her eyes widen and the tears slide silently down her cheek. She looks to him, but he’s just as surprised. Finally, they hear me.

“Please, don’t be sad, we’ve had a good run.” I push my nose into her hand. “It’s just my time, that’s all.”

“I’m scared,” she whispers. “I will miss you so much.”

They both slide to the floor and wrap themselves around me. It feels good, right.

“I will miss you too,” is all I can think to say.

I feel so sleepy, my body oddly heavy. I lay down between them on the blanket they’ve laid out. They are both there, stroking my fur.

“Thank you for being the best boy,” she says, and she smiles at me, a real smile.

“Thank you for everything,” I say softly. “Next time, I’ll try to stay a little longer.”