You knew it would come to this.
When you got that fluffy 8-week old little imp, this day was already written.
It was part of the deal. You promised that lively fluffy silly fellow, that you would do this hard thing, that you would make sure the last minutes were as good as the first minutes.
It's been hanging there for fourteen years, this thing.
Pray that you choose the right time, the right day.
Do you wait until the good days are gone?
Try to guess when it IS the last good day.
It is not easy.
You will gamble.
Talk to your God.
Talk to your dog.
Dont be fanciful. Do not entertain falsehoods. This is real life, not some fucking slogan.
Be brave and do your best. If you err , a day short, or a day too long....(and I believe I have erred, I think, in both directions, but mostly , by not deciding soon enough.)
KNOW that your dog will forgive you, if you don't choose exactly right. He knows why. and he understands.
Please be grateful, Very grateful that you, and you alone have this awful choice.
And be thankful, SO very thankful, that he was yours, from the beginning to the end.
and that you got the chance to say good bye.
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