Is nearly as difficult as saying goodbye. 12 years isn’t nearly long enough for my sweet golden boy, but I can’t let him suffer. Our vet’s diagnosis is gastrointestinal or bowel cancer, with it already slowly wearing him away and manifesting in an almost grapefruit sized lump on his hip. He’s so tired. A tennis ball – all his life the immediate perk-up toy, regardless of how far we’d walked that day or how hot and tired he was – is of no interest and food only slightly so, but he still gives me a tail wag every time I walk by and he’s awake. He’s not in constant pain, but his intestinal system is shutting down. We have some medicine to help him out for a few more days, but on Monday I will say good-bye to my wonderful and best friend over the past 10 years.
He adopted me, in the beginning. He’s always been here for me. Now it’s my turn to be there for him. I can’t let him down, no matter how much it breaks my heart. Nothing will ever, ever replace him.
I talk to him when I’m lonesome like; and I’m sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that. ~ W. Dayton Wedgefarth