Chloe, my father’s 17 year-old terrier, and his only companion since his wife passed away 4 years ago, has just left us.
He knew the day would come, but that did not make it any easier when it did.
He called me and left a heart-wrenching voicemail. He needed to take her to her final vet visit at 4 p.m.
Then he called my cell phone. I helped him the best I could, having gone through this with my cat a few years ago. Past the guilt. Past the “what if’s.” But – what do I really know? All I know is that he really loved that dog.
Chloe’s kidneys failed 2 days ago, the vet said. She could not walk anymore, had stopped eating, had stopped – everything. He was doing the “right” thing.
But that is logic. And this, this has nothing to do with logic, does it?