I was on my way home from some runnings-around. I had just pulled into the neighborhood when I got a text from Rob: “Hey, we’re going to be putting Shaina down on Wednesday. Wanted to let you know so you could plan to see her one more time.”
Immediately I started crying. I cannot imagine life without Shaina. She’s really old for a dog (about sixteen, I believe), but I’ve only known her since she was ten. I’m going to hate going over to the Scheribel’s knowing she’s gone forever. Knowing I’ll never see her familiar, crooked head, adoring face, gorgeous black fur, playful bouncing – ever again. (Pictures don’t count.)
I hate death. I hate suffering. I hate that we have to let her go not even knowing if we’ll see her again in the Kingdom.
Does she know that on Wednesday her life will be ended? Does she know her nose will never scent out anything again? That she’ll never eat any of her disgusting dog food again? That she’ll never jump around Mr. Scheribel’s feet, begging to go outside, ever again? Does she know how much I’ve cried for her since I found out last night? Does she sense from her family that something’s going to happen? Can she feel that something’s amiss? Is she slightly anxious about it?
No. She’s just a dog.
But she’s not just a dog. She’s wonderful. She’s frisky. She’s gorgeous. She’s amazing. She’s playful. She’s everything to me.
If it hurts this much to loose an animal to the clutches of death, how much worse to loose one’s life partner! I don’t think I want to marry.