I didn’t think that this moment would be here so soon. The moment I would lose you.
I remember that first morning. You were about as big as my hand (maybe a little bigger, you were always a little bigger). Your whines made me want to cover my head with a pillow. I woke up and you gave me those eyes. The puppy kind, where I could see the whites of them. That’s when I knew I loved you. I staggered out the door picking sleep out of my own eyes with you in my arms. I set you on the grass where you hobbled around (like puppies do) to find the perfect bathroom grass.
Yesterday, I had to do the same thing. I wrapped you in my arms and carried you out to the grass, except instead of finding a bathroom spot, you lighted in the grass, clumsily falling over. This is when I felt like I was losing you but I had so much hope, at only 6 years old, you should pull through this. I let you lay there a while and the wind blew through your fur. You took in as deep a breath possible. I think you knew before everyone. My little trooper. You looked so stoic and wise. I’ll remember that image forever. The last few minutes of your life I looked into those eyes. Nothing about them said this was fair. It wasn’t. I buried my nose in your fur and took a deep breath, tears falling down my face, trying not to sob so that you wouldn’t be scared. My heart was officially broken, no, shattered.
We buried you out underneath a young dogwood tree with your favorite toys. Its blooms are beginning to open. Every year when I see the dogwoods bloom I will think of you. Sweet, sweet, baby. My best friend.