My mom mentioned today that she’s trying to muster up the courage to take our dog to the vet - and everything that would imply, namely, putting her down.
To be honest, to talk about it is a relief. This dog is twelve years old and, most days, can hardly walk anymore, is mostly deaf, half blind, and often can’t control where she relieves herself. It’s really past her time. And I know that, so hearing my mom say it out loud is good. But the reality hurts.
I have no idea when this will become more than a conversation or a thought and I’ll actually have to say goodbye, but I’m already crying thinking about it. Damn my stupid tender heart that has a speed dial to my tear ducts. (And I rarely curse, so seriously)
I think I’ll be relieved. The dog I remember from years ago doesn’t deserve the kind if miserable life she’s been living. But that’s what’s hard, what will be hard. I remember the two year old dog we brought home when I was 11. How energetic she was and how affectionate. I’ve grown up with this dog, she’s been my companion in middle school and high school, when I was a moody, depressed, unhappy, lonely girl. She wasn’t much, but she was there, and even when I remember how horrid I was in my teens, she still is in those memories. I have ten years if memories that involve that dog, and saying goodbye to her will be hard if only because she’s always been around.
And I type all of this even as she’s sleeping soundly downstairs, and we haven’t even contacted the vet or even agreed as a family that this is going to happen. But I’ve been preparing mentally for this for over a year, and I can feel it coming closer to an end. And I’m relieved at that. But she’s my dog. And it’s going to hurt. And I dread it because if that.
XD nerd I may be but I have made the same mistake plenty of times in my life. You have to admit though, it is somehow very poetic.
*You’re, not your.
^So basically, yeah.
And I shall tell you if you are right.
■ i don’t like you
◊ marry me?
That’s our relationship.
Love you too, dear.