Dog lovers say that there are three days in the life of your pet that you'll always remember. The first day is the day that you first laid your eyes upon her and knew that she was meant to be a part of your family. The second day is the day that you first noticed her silvering hair and her slower step, and suddenly you realized that you wouldn't have her for ever. The third day is the day that you stroked her muzzle and whispered good-bye, having made the heart-breaking decision to let her go. I am saddened and grateful that I had all three of these days with my dog, Juanita.
On the day that Juanita and I first met, I hadn't intended to bring home a new puppy. I had intended to bring home some new shoes. As I passed the pet store window, I saw Juanita, lazily napping while the busyness of the mall moved around her. Her fox-like ears twitched as she dreamt of the family that would one day be her own. The moment I saw her, I was in love. I'll just hold her for a moment, I thought, cupping her tiny body in the palm of my hand and taking in the sweet smell of her puppy breath. That moment became a dog's lifetime, because I never put her back down. Juanita was mine from that moment on.
Days turned to months, and months turned to years when suddenly I realized that my easy-going, sweet-spirited girl only resembled the puppy she'd once been. Juanita had traded in her favorite game of chase for a quiet, warm spot in the sun. She could no longer jump up onto my lap, and instead sat at my feet pleading with her eyes for help up. Her soft tan fur had been replaced by course white hair and the lump on her belly was growing bigger. This was the day that I knew that she'd be mine for only a little while longer.
On my last day with Juanita, I wasn't sure that I could make the decision to let her go. I sat watching her. Maybe tomorrow she would be better. She staggered up from her blanket, looking at me with tired, pained eyes. In that moment, I knew that tomorrow wouldn't be better. I knew that she'd be worse. I scooped her up in her blanket, and quietly drove across town to the vet. My stomache felt sick, and I wanted to turn back, but I didn't. I wiped heavy tears from my eyes and drove on, trying not to think about the next half hour. Juanita and I were ushered to a dimly lit room, where the hum of the heater matched her labored breath. I kissed her nose and thanked her for the thirteen years of memories that she'd given me. I said good-bye and I peacefully let her go, knowing that her memory would always be mine.
"Don't cry because it's over, smile that it happened."
Dr. Suess
