Puppy Love

My throat grew tighter each time I saw my dog run a lap around the old birch tree. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But I no longer had a choice. Although he acted as if he were still a puppy he was not, he was nearly twelve years old.

The way his hips swayed a little too much while he ran was the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. If he wasn’t on his pain meds, I knew he wouldn’t be able to walk, never mind run. He had been by my side for the entirety of my adult life.

He had been my confidant when I knew I was in a toxic relationship. He was my pal when I wanted to try out new walking trials. He was my snuggle buddy when I wanted to read a good book.

But today I needed to be something for him. I needed to be strong, empathetic, and most of all unselfish. Because as much as I knew what I needed to do I couldn’t help but want to take him home and snuggle him one more time. Part of me wanted to hold on until those pain meds didn’t do what they were supposed to.

But as I saw him over zealously sniff a fallen leaf, I knew what I’d be doing to him. And that wouldn’t be fair. How could I make him suffer just to prolong my own?

I would need to remember all of the good things we’d experienced together. All those trips to the ice cream place in the summer when he would get his little bowl with a treat on top. All the nights he slept under my infant daughter’s rocker. He had been her protector. Although from what I’m not sure. He was fill of spunk but wouldn’t be able to hurt anything even if he tried.

The thought brought a sad smile to my lips. My chin began to quiver and I forced myself to stop.

“Charlie,” I called and his sweet face looked at me.

He had always been a handful, especially when it came to his health. One eye had to be removed when he was only two and he was now nearly blind in the other. The vet was convinced he could still see shapes, but I have seen him walk into so many walls.

As he left his leaf to decay in the undergrowth of the old birch his little black ears flopped as he ran. His gait awkward and swayed.

“Good boy,” I crooned as he sat down at my feet. A sandy colored tail wagged in the sand at the edge of the asphalt. With a deep exhale I hooked the lead back onto his harness. I had to give him a few minutes of freedom, but by the time on my phone those minutes had expired.

“C’mon buddy,” I croaked as my voice cracked. I knew those words wouldn’t be said to him many more times. My vision blurred as I led him into the veterinary office, the doors were glass, so it confused him, and he had difficulty finding the actual opening.

“See, you’re doing the right thing,” I whispered to myself. Although I had been encouraged by the staff here several times over the last few weeks as I brought him in for one issue after another. I finally bit the bullet last week and made the appointment.

“Good afternoon,” the woman behind the desk said with a smile.

“Hi, I have Charlie here for his two o’clock appointment.”

She consulted her computer and then gave me a sad smile. “Euthanasia?”

I nodded, unable to speak around the tennis ball sized lump in my throat.