Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really. – Agnes Sligh Turnbull
It was hard the first time, with Max, and this is going to be worse, because Mya is not sick, just old. It is a difficult thing to decide. When is it time to end the life of your friend?
Mya is family. She has lived with me in six different homes, in four cities, and in the last thirteen years, I have spent more time with her than anyone. She is the constant of my adult life.
Fourteen is old for a big dog. Her hearing is going, she has bad teeth, and arthritis. She always slept in my bedroom, even when I had to carry her to the second floor, but after three years, she grew weary of even being carried, so she sleeps downstairs now. Sometimes I still carry her up and down the five steps of our porch to go outside, but I’m not always home, and even those are becoming insurmountable. She stumbled coming in today. If I wait much longer, she will fall down.
This is my decision. I do not know how I should tell Michelle, but she knows it is coming. I gave Mya a bath today so she would be nice and clean, and Michelle has noticed my added moments petting her. She suspects I have a plan so she asks about it. “Maybe this week,” I tell her. She pulls back as if I slapped her across the face and begins to cry. “Well, maybe the week after,” I add. To her great credit, she knows this is hard, and tells me to do whatever I think is best.
I have no idea when the right time is. No matter when I decide, it will feel too soon. If I wait too long she will suffer, or I will miss it. I do not want her to die in the night downstairs all alone. This is my chance to say goodbye and it is the least I can do for this creature who has been my faithful friend.
We have started having private conversations about this, Mya and I. She nudges me more often lately, so I will scratch her head, and when no one else is around, I talk to her. Mostly I say, “I know my girl. I’m just trying to work up the courage.”
I write it down, because it helps, and I cry. I hope to send her out with a smile on my face and no smell of sadness on me. I want to get all the tears out of the way, but there will not be enough time for that.
It is time to put my dog down. I make an appointment and then ask Michelle to exercise her veto power. Instead, she arranges to take the afternoon off so we can take Mya to the vet together.
The moment came too fast, as I knew it would, along with pain, guilt, and regret. I did the best I could, which provides me some solace. I laid down beside Mya on the bed I brought and cuddled up to her. As she left this world, I stroked her head, and for the last time, I told her, “You’re a good girl,” and I managed not to cry until she was gone.
Mya
Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Boatswain, a dog. – Lord Byron
I wrote about Mya for selfish reasons. It was cathartic. I thought a few people I know would be interested in the news, but thousands and thousands of people read about Mya, more than have ever come here before. Some people, most of whom I have no other connection to, were touched, and went out of their way to share personal stories, email good wishes, and generally to say lovely things. That is unexpected, and it moved me.
Anyone who has loved a pet understands the grief that comes with their death. It is something many people can relate to. Your stories, love, and support are well received and appreciated. Thank you friends, family, and anonymous internet readers.
My sympathies to those of you who have experienced this final moment with a pet. To those of you worrying that moment may be approaching, enjoy your friend now, and give them extra treats tonight. I was petting my dog Max, and Michelle’s cat Chagall when they died, but Michelle was not there, and she has regrets about that. This time she came to support me, and that showed a lot of courage. She says it was more difficult than she was prepared for, but she is glad she was there. Do the best you can. That is all that can be expected.
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We must walk to the end of our street and around the row of houses to get to the dog park. Well, I walk, the dogs like to run, it takes them about thirty seconds. Keeping them in check for the short walk is more bother than it is worth, but letting them run ahead puts them in danger of traffic, and into the park a full minute ahead of me. So I make them wait.
I wrote about Mya for selfish reasons. It was cathartic. I thought a few people I know would be interested in the news, but thousands and thousands of people read about Mya, more than have ever come here before. Some people, most of whom I have no other connection to, were touched, and went out of their way to share personal stories, email good wishes, and generally to say lovely things. That is unexpected, and it moved me.
My friend taught me a lesson today. She phoned to tell me she was getting a dog. “Dogs are a lot of work Marie-eve,” I cautioned her. “Oh, don’t be that guy! Not you!”
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