For Those Who Must Face a Pet’s Demise

This past Friday was the scheduled day for my dog Misty to have her every two-month bath and grooming at an area vet. I arrived promptly at 8:30, her prearranged time. As we were exiting my car, another customer drove up. I didn’t notice whether he had a dog or cat in tow.
Anyway, Misty gets so “excited” when she gets to the vet’s that she must relieve herself prior to entering the office. I walked her out into the open spaces for just that purpose. When she had finished, we proceeded to head for the front door.
As she was led away - in anticipatory dread of the washing that was about to take place -I happened to ask the young customer if he were having the same thing done to his pet. I assumed as much because I had been told that another animal was to be “gussied up” also that morning.
He told with an obviously pained voice that he was there to have his 14-year-old dog put to sleep. I offered my condolences, but they were probably of minor comfort to someone who was struggling with the decision that he had made.
I could feel empathy because a little less than two years ago I was forced to do the same thing. For you see, Alex, my 16-year-old “pedigreed mutt” passed away on November 16, 1997.
There are never the right words when you have to say the ultimate farewell to a friend who has been there unconditionally. I knew exactly how the young man felt.
Before Alex’s death, I had begun dreading the moment when the Grim Reaper would call her. The signs were there that a visit was imminent: listlessness, lack of appetite, and diminishing faculties. But, I did not want to accept the inevitable.
Many of my friends and co-workers familiar with the oft-told stories about her were compassionate and offered comforting remarks to lessen my burden. For that I am most appreciative. Because of that, I am passing on the kindness to anyone preparing for the death of a pet and the choice for euthanasia.
Don’t dwell on your decision in regards to your pet. The animal is, without a doubt, in less pain and is in a better place. Yes, all dogs go to Heaven. Reverse the letters in the word “dog” and you’ll understand what I mean.
Do dwell on the fun times that you had. Think about how the dog loved to ride with you in the truck, how it would make that funny sound that you could never understand, or how it would tear up something of yours and give you that “forgive me” face.
Remember how it “trained” you to respond to its every wish, how it was particular about some of your friends, or how it had an unusual fondness for some un-doglike food.
You did the right and honorable thing, my friend. I am sure that if your dog were here, it would give you an approving lick and wag of the tail.
He’d probably say in perfect Southern doggy, “You done good, buddy!”