With Love Comes Loss

My dog was dying in the next room and there was nothing that I could do but wait. Would she live with just medicine? Was there any way that we would be able to afford the surgery? What could we have done differently? Was there some sign that I missed? A million thoughts ran through my mind. It was agonizing torture having to wait.

When the veterinarian came out and told us that it would have to be surgery or nothing I could feel my heart breaking. I had the childish hope that by taking her to the vet that everything would be okay again but it wouldn’t ever be okay. My mother’s voice was shaking when she told her that we wouldn’t be able to afford the surgery, and all I could do was sob and cry and scream inside my mind that ‘this wasn’t fair.’ My chest constricted and I couldn’t breathe, the walls started closing in. I had to get out of there. I told my mother that I was going to go outside for a little while and that I would be back later. How could my mother and I choose?

I was the one that told the lady at the front desk that Reni had to be put to sleep. My mother just wasn’t able to do it. She took us into a room and we waited. They brought Reni into the room in a white terrycloth towel. I will never forget her eyes; they were glassy from pain medication and she was so calm. My mother and I sat in silence; there really was nothing to say. It hurt so much to be sitting with her knowing that this would be the last time that I would ever get to pet her, to see her, to tell her that I loved her. I asked my mother if I could hold her for a little while and when I looked into Reni’s eyes I burst into tears. I told her that everything would be okay, that they would make sure that she wouldn’t be in pain anymore. I lied.

A nurse came in and asked if we were ready for them to take her. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t let them take her away. I hadn’t had enough time. I never would have enough time to say goodbye. I had to let her go though so I let the nurse take her away. I wasn’t able to stay and watch as she left us. I just wasn’t able to do it. She was put to sleep.

Death walked behind our family on silent feet but grief screamed out and took jabs at our open wounds, is still poking and jabbing and the wounds don’t look to be healing anytime soon, though it gets a little better each day. For twelve years Reni was more than just my dog. She was my little sister. Death was swift in doing its job.