My dog Murray will be euthanized today at 4. It's now 12:36. It's really a sickening thing for me. Although I know it's the best thing for him. (He is 70 pounds, 16 years old and can't walk anymore...even with help from his brace he's had, it's close to impossible.) He has slowly deteriorated and then in the last week, he's declining fast. Okay, enough of all the justifications. In my heart of hearts I wonder why the hell these things are put in our hands. I know, I know, it's an imperfect world and this isn't the way it was supposed to be. Still, knowing I'm going to take a life, on purpose is just horrible. One can say, "no, you're relieving him from his suffering", but I'm the who has decided when Murray will take his last breath, eat his last meal, drink his last bit of ice water. I'm the one playing God and I hate it.
I sort of guess there are people out there who say "it's just a dog, not a human" and I say back at them, you have no idea. They are living, intelligent creatures whom God made with love and intention. These 'just dogs' are more intuitive and perceptive than most humans I know.
I don't have a whole lot to say but for some reason the need to write is just there. Then when I begin to write, I feel empty and inadequate to find the right words....even the right thoughts. My thoughts are just this flow of feelings from the pit of my stomach. When I have the thought of the fact that Murray only has four more hours with me, with us...it sickens me, truly a sick feeling.
If I just think of him, and how to make it easier on him, it might be better for me, you know, not wallow in self pity. Loss, dear God, loss is the hardest thing, but this time I feel that it's intentional. I need to remind myself that it's the right thing.
Murray is such a gentle, sweet dog. He was actually kind, yes, dogs can be intentionally kind, to everyone he came in contact with. One exception was when we were at doggy park and we sat on the bench for a rest, some guy started walking towards us. Murray gave this deep, gutteral growl, snarl. It was a protective thing I think. In any case, I didn't ever see him do it again.
We got him from a sherlter about 16 years ago. The lady at the desk said a very rude man came in, propped Murray on the desk and said, "here, take him." He was a pup then. I'm so happy my husband saw him huddled away in his own little cage. He looked terrified. That's one thing about Murray, his face is so expressive. You can always tell what's going on with him just by looking at his face. This dog smiled more than any other dog even though his first few months on earth were probably hellish with his first owner. We really tried to make up for it these past 16 years.
The look on his face now is tired, confused and well....very tired and old. He used to smile every time I would walk in the door. These past few weeks I can't see the smile. I see the love he has for me, but not the smile.
Okay, so enough, I just had to vent yet again. I'm going to be the only family member here when the vet comes. I thought that was a good idea, but now I'm not so sure. I mean maybe it would have been better to have my husband here. He's out of town and won't get back until later tonight. I'm not sure how I'll feel after they take Murray's body away. My feelings sometimes catch me off guard.
If you ever have to make this decision, my heart is with you. Anyone who has ever loved a furry friend has had a taste of God's unconditional love.
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