I went to Breadsmith yesterday and saw some photos of puppies eating doggy biscuits. I asked the woman working there if those were all the employee’s puppies. She said no, they were dogs who were eating the homemade dog biscuits the store made. I said, “we have to put our dog down soon. I should buy him a biscuit for a last treat,” but then didn’t. I continued picking out my Traditional Rye bread, bear claws and rolls. I met her at the counter. She was holding a little paper bag. I opened it up and saw the dog biscuit. “Oh man - you shouldn’t be nice to me,” I said, my voice quavering.
I’d held it together, I thought I’d be okay with this. I AM okay with this - Rusty’s in pain, he’s ready to go. We tried to let him go on his own, but he’s staying. And staying. And staying. He’s a stubborn little cuss, just like the rest of us in our family. But sometimes the greatest kindness is when you can let somebody go, whether it’s a beloved pet, or spouse, or parent, or friend, or job, or city, or home.
I held the biscuit in front of his nose, because he can’t see very well, but his sense of smell is still crystal keen. He started chewing, ate half of it, then had to rest, leaning against the air conditioning unit. I snapped picture after picture, amazed that his teeth are still so strong and his will to eat delicious treats so powerful. I take deep breaths as I type this, because we got Rusty even before we were married, and we celebrate our 15th anniversary in a couple of months. Our children weren’t even in school yet, and now my oldest is in her second year of seminary. We lived in the pink house, which was before the white house, which was before the house we’re living in now. Rusty’s been around longer than we’ve been a family.
My heart hurts as I type, and I am sad. I don’t like endings. I hate saying good-bye. It sucks. It reminds me of July 3, 2008, at 12:40PM, when I said the biggest good-bye of my life. It was painful then, and it’s painful now. But change is the nature of the Universe, and we must ride the wave so that we can be carried ever onward and upward. Yes, I know this - we can’t keep holding on to everything new that comes into our lives. We need to let the old and finished go. But Rusty is not finished - but this stage of his adventure is finished. Yes, Darci - there are BIG bones in heaven, for sure. Thank you for your kind words of comfort. So now my heart expands to not only be kind to my husband, who will miss his sweet doggy friend, but also to our sweet dog, Rusty - I pet you gently and whisper love into your ear.