I need to lay my grief down someplace. Anyplace. I can’t carry it right now because I am being crushed under the weight of it. And I failed you my little buddy. I don’t know how I am going to do this without you. I can’t breathe I am crying so much. I don’t care who knows it.
The day I first met you Frankie, it was instant love. Gentle, sweet, so incredibly tender about everything you did. Whether it was a kiss, grooming your toy babies, or taking a well-deserved treat from my hand, you were careful and soft about it. The only time all 6 pounds of you was rough and tumble was when it came time to play “stick” and that is when the athlete came out in you. You used to wear me out and all I was doing was tossing it for you to bring it back endlessly for more. And would give anything right now to play stick with you today, but that isn’t to be.
I knew you hadn’t been feeling well for the past few days. Your lack of appetite and need to sleep more than usual were signs something was wrong despite you being nearly 15 years old. I knew it was more than old age. Much more. But last night as you labored violently to breathe and moved around the bed thinking that if you relocated to another place to settle, you might escape the discomfort and pain you were suffering from, I gently picked you up and held you as I could hear the gurgling and rapid heartbeat. I held you close and all you did for 5 hours was stare at me with wee eyes, hoping I could take away what was frightening you, but I couldn’t. I failed you my baby. I couldn’t make it better. And I am wracked with guilt.
So this morning when I took you to the vet, I knew in my heart you weren’t coming home with me. I think you knew it too. And as always, you gently laid down on the blanket I brought for you on the table after they had done your X-rays and found your heart was so enlarged that there was no more room for your lungs to expand and breathe, it was time for us to say goodbye to each other. And as they gave you your injection I leaned down to kiss you and you looked up and did what you did so well: you kissed me and licked those tears from my face so gently it was like an angel had touched me. And then you were gone….
When I took that pic of you above two days ago, it was because you had never gone in that hosta bed before, it was like a big magical forest all your own to get lost in at 6 pounds. I look at that pic now and see something I didn’t see before: You were ready to take a journey…
...and you were turning back to say one last goodbye.