I'll admit it. I haven't been in so much a Bah Humbug! mood as mentally preparing for the worst.
Today, the worst happened.
Our 12.5 year old chocolate lab, Smokey, had to be put to sleep. I'm guessing that's gonna hurt for a while.
To most people, Smokey was just a dog. And although I'd like to think of us as non-weird dog people, he was the oldest child we never had. He was even famous in his neck of the woods, known for finding deer that a hunter couldn't find...and having no problem pointing out when the hunter had missed.
We jokingly referred to Smokey as "Smokey the Wonder Dog...and Local Legend".
Smokey got sick last month and even though he confounded the Vet by never running a fever, eating like a pig and having normal bodily functions, he just couldn't breathe. I have asthma...I kinda took that not breathing thing harder than most. For the past month, I've hidden his meds in all kinds of treats but this morning, when I sat down to rub his belly before going to work, I had this sinking feeling that this would be our last morning chat.
The worst part was taking off work to run Hubby's business [he's self employed] so Hubby could take Smokey to a Specialist a little over an hour away. Every phone call was agony: the prognosis kept getting worse and although intellectually it was obvious we needed to help him "slip the bonds of earth", it's tough when your heart keeps yelling, "It's not fair!"
I hated that Hubby had to face the grim reality of this alone. You see, he and Smokey are practically inseparable and I knew this would hurt.
I had no idea my heart would break too.
So here's to Smokey the Wonder Dog and Local Legend; Hubby's hunting buddy, Bou's dear old Dad and my snuggle buddy on the couch.
In the words of my Dad, "You done good!"
May you run in heaven and never tire.