He had a steak his last day. And a princely ride in a dog carriage.
Wilson is gone. The sweetest that ever was. He loved us. We loved him. I think it was September 12th. Could that much time have already passed?
His water bowls have less water every day and will soon be empty. The water is cloudy but I can’t bring myself to move it or clean it or touch it. I picked up some of the rawhide bones, but left others. In every room. He trusted us. We let him go.
I want to take it back. I changed my mind! But I couldn’t. His daddy Bert couldn’t.
He felt too bad too much of the time. So much coughing and trying to catch his breath through so much of his waking hours. And seizures. And staring off. He never complained.
The most helpful thing we read in those days before deciding was a vet, whose name I should have kept. He said, if you don’t have any doubts, you waited too long. I read too many horror stories from others who waited too long, all the pain and terror, and wished they could go back.
She came to the house. He ate snacks to the end. Of course he did! When she said he was gone I didn’t believe it. So warm still. Just eating a snack! Just moments ago. Wilson’s daddy Bert helped the vet carry the stretcher to the van. It drove away.
I talk to him still and try to pretend he is there. He is not. I am careful with my feet when getting up from my desk, so as not to jostle or wake him. I look at his pictures and tell him I’m sorry.
Our boy has gone. He was the sweetest and cutest that ever was. Ever ever.