It's been a little while coming, the one thing I wondered how I would bear, since I most likely would not be there for it. The kids and I have been talking about it, the first death that would occur in they house they've grown up in.
She was a good dog, a pound runt with great tall-grass spirit. Her life, I think, damaged by the tension of our household. She became a nervous licker and chewer of her own skin, a living lesson for me in how the toxins of my own angers and disappointments registering on others, day-by-day. My first great disappointment in myself, looking at that scaled and dried armor, that I could not somehow be happier for her benefit, available to comb her every day and remind her that she was important and loved.
I last looked in her eyes Sunday evening and saw the departure was imminent. I wanted to know if she felt my love for her. In her eyes, only the grey shades of exhaustion.