My dog, my pal, and the link to my past was my living history. He was around when my wife was pregnant with twins, and he shared their death with me in 2006. However, he stood firm when we brought my sons, Nico and Christopher, home. He became their protector, an overseer for their welfare. He was later called again by his friend to bring me comfort when my wife died 6 years later.
But now this good ole boy is dying himself. He is at home resting in a hospice that I created for him. Palliative care is not my specialty, but I'm feeding him snacks I wouldn't otherwise give him. I'm holding him longer. And I still marvel at your big brown eyes that are as large as any horse. No wonder you ate like one.
I want to talk to him, and I do, but I wish he could respond back. I would tell my boy how important he was to me in my recovery after my wife died. How much I loved when we traveled together. I would love to hear him tell me what he thought of the Rocky Mountains and that Florida boy's thoughts while frolicking in the snow. I'm sure we'd both laugh when I mentioned when he came down the trail with an old deer carcass. Oh, my boy, I will miss you when you're gone. The joy you brought me when you discovered the ocean and, like a child, didn't want to come out of the water. Our car rides together on trips to nowhere. And boat rides in the Intracoastal. Our late-night fitness jogs. Your love of the dog park and your favorite peanut butter sandwiches. You meant so much to me, Champ.
I'm now giving him meds to calm his anxiety. I wish I had some time to calm myself right now. I was wavering at the idea of standing in the room with him when they euthanized him, but I can't allow you to go home alone. I need to stand by your side and hold you tight as your body dies. I want to catch your head when it goes limp so I can gently lay you down on the table. Close your eyes with my hands and whisper, "Champ, you were the best dog I have ever had."
You, Champ, were one of my last connections to the past that now brings more closure when you're gone. Champer, you will now be among the ones I will never see again. You were the bridge that was there for my marriage. You are the one my grandmothers adored when they were alive. And you were the reminder of my youth. Champ, my almost two-decade dog, you witnessed my living and most of my personal history. You watched me rebuild my life and marry again. And you never left your girl, Sugar, our Bichon's side. Buddy, you are now one for the ages. And I really wanted to thank you for not judging me. You were my friend. The one who wished for my unconditional love.
Champ, I am writing your obituary, and I have these final few thoughts from a forever grateful human. You were like baseball in spring, as American as apple pie and as caring as any human. So sleep now, my boy, Blue. You are at 70% respiration and can no longer breathe. I know you are holding on for me, but like a genie that is a slave to the bottle who has given me 3 wishes, I'm asking my final wish, for you to be free.
I hope your kindness is rewarded and you pass on to the next level in life. You would be a great human. The world needs your gentle stare, engaging entertainment, and witty humor. You can cross strong and hold your tail high like you always did. Strut my son onto the other side.
With a simple stroke of a pen, I just authorized my Veterinarian to end your life. But it is mercy I am offering you because I know you will never let go. Losing you isn't that simple. But I know deep down I'm freeing you. From one friend to another friend, go in peace and find your next adventures somewhere out there, far beyond this world. Goodbye, my best friend.
I love you, boy.
731 words.
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