I’ve had my dog for a little over 16 years now, he’s been my best friend, my pillow, and my protector. He got me through scary storms, boring days, and mean boys, all without complaint. He loves me unconditionally, I never have to worry about him hurting me. Of course though right? He’s a dog, all dogs do that. But he’s MY dog, MY best friend.
Well now he’s 17 years old, the cancer is aggressive and the heart worms make him cough. He’s skin and bones, he shakes, and he doesn’t like to get up for anything besides me, including food.
My aunt works for a vet clinic, and she decided it was time. Tomorrow I would say goodbye before I went back to college, and this week she would help him let go, and put him down if he suffered too much. But tonight as I sat back with him, he laid his head on my leg, looked up at me, and sighed. He knows it’s time, I know it’s time, and he’s ready.
I don’t think he’ll make it through the night.
My aunt set it up so I get a ceramic paw print of his, his ashes, and a picture book of all out memories. Everyone is reassuring me through my tears that it’s his time and he had a good life, but that doesn’t make it easier. What do you do when you lose your best friend? I sure as hell don’t know and I’m not ready to find out.