It's Time

For the last eight and a half years, I've focused almost solely on Molly. She's like a daughter - a four-legged, furry one - and is my absolute pride and joy. We have a relationship that goes so far beyond anything I've ever had before. The feelings I have for her run deeper than any feelings I've ever felt.

And now it's time to say good-bye.

We've set the date, made the arrangements, and are now spending her last few days just appreciating every moment we have with her. Old pictures have been dug out. Chris and I have been telling the same old funny stories about her over and over and over again...

But, on the inside, we're dying. Right along with her.

It's strange to feel this way. I believe in an afterlife. I know that "death" is not the end. And I've witnessed several transitions from this world to the next in my thirty-two years. But none of them have ever affected me like this one.

Despite my beliefs, my heart hurts. My soul feels crushed. My energy is drained.

This is the right decision. And I know that it's for the best. But none of that makes this any easier.


** Molly - 2006


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"One last word of farewell, dear master and mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: "Here lies one who loves us and whom we loved." No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail."
-- Eugene O'Neill, from his Dalmatian, Blemie's, last will and testament