Some of us have had to make this decision recently and it hurts in un-writeable ways. Ghia’s post comes close to speaking for our hearts – as close as we can.
Thirteen years ago, I was a young pup. I was strong, bouncy, full of life.
I played and I ate and I barked and slept. I grew every day. My feet were too big for my body, but I grew still.
I turned into a handsome young fella. With eyes and ears that missed nothing. I saw strangers at the gate and I let my mistress know through my bark what kind of stranger it was. I knew friend from foe.
Then, we moved house. My mistress was very sad. She cried all the time. I knew the kind of sadness she had was bone deep. I realised that it could not be soothed by my jumping and running. so I just sat with her, quiet-like. Just let her know I’m there. I could not speak to her, or wipe the tears from her face, but she held me…
View original post 649 more words