Farewell

Brown eyes focus on me, echoing a silent plea that I want to ignore.

It’s time, they say.

Tears fall into my coffee.

My head knows he is right, but my heart protests.

The clang of his food dish stirs him enough to stand. His tail wags, a steady rhythm ticking time away.

Twelve years. More than I could have ever asked for, yet far, far too little.
We’ve been through so much together, both good and bad. I’ve cried happy tears, sad tears, mad tears. We’ve navigated this crazy world together side by side, and I’ve forgotten what life looks like without him.

Grief sits in the pit of my stomach, seeps through my insides.

I hate cancer.

The day moves forward and his shadow clicks behind me, sharpened nails on bare floor.

I know what he’s saying. The words are as clear to me as if he’s spoken them out loud. And as much as they break my heart, I owe it to him to do what I already know I must, to make the impossible choice.

I love you, he says – a truth I know beyond the shadow of a doubt. He’s shown me time and time again how deep our bond goes. But this time it’s different, and the message sears my wounded soul, cutting out the hole that will remain once he’s gone.

This time it’s a request, the only time he’s ever asked me for anything. He’s fighting a battle he cannot win, but he won’t stop without my permission, without my blessing.

I love you, he says.

I love you, let me go.

The decision hangs over my head, taunts me. I know what I must do, because there is no other choice. I won’t choose his suffering over mine.

In the years that come, I will tell stories about him. About the rescue dog who saved me. About my best friend, who had four legs and a tail and floppy ears and somehow understood me better than some people ever have.

I am not ready.

But I know it is time.