Rescued December 30, 2008
Rainbow Bridge September 28, 2015
So long, my buddy and companion.
From an email this weekend:
He’s 15. He’s gone downhill over the last six months in particular. He isn’t always in control of his bladder. He’s unhappy. He barks at phantoms and paces up a worry. He’s up and down during the night. He shakes uncontrollably for long stretches, whether in fear or in confusion or both. In short, his quality of life is not what it was when he joined me seven years ago. One recent dogsitter remarked at how much Sam had aged. I see Sam daily and of course don’t see it so clearly, but when I take stock, the signs are there.
All the lit says to say goodbye earlier rather than later, and that humane-ness trumps wanting more days with the pet. I gotta say, though — this decision feels pretty selfish on my part, but I’m going to listen to my head, as much as my heart is already grieving.
Jean has reminded me that Sam has had much more life than he ever would have expected, thanks to me. I know, but it’s little solace right now.
He went peacefully, asleep from a sedative, cradled in my arms. I had wept furiously earlier this afternoon, but at the final moment I spoke quietly to him. He is now released from his unhappiness, from his aches and pains, from the age that was increasingly and inexorably closing him in.
I know that grief is part of the bargain of love. And I know that joy will come soon enough. My head knows this. My heart believes it.
So why do I hurt and sob so? On this day, sorrow and my own loss are all I see.
Rest in peace, sweet pup. I pray that the joys you have brought me were repaid a thousandfold as you traveled this seven years with me.