if she could,” said the vet, my tears reflected on her cheeks.
I looked back down at Wrigley, stroked her ear. Here we were, cramped in the back of the truck and she was finally at peace. No more throwing up. No more losing weight. No more pain.
A decade of love ending with what felt like an awful betrayal.
We’d been slowly marching toward this day for the past two months. There was the last walk. The last peanut Frosty Paw. The last good morning kiss. The last ride in the truck.
I tried to tell her. I tried to explain it was for the best. She just looked at me with those soft, trusting eyes. Tired eyes, for sure, but loving eyes just the same.
Some day soon I’ll write about all the heartwarming parts – the gleeful arrivals, the tail that beheaded Grandma’s prized lily, the inexhaustible loyalty, and even how she got me through labor. I’ll thank the family who surrendered her to the Animal Welfare League of Arlington. I’ll be grateful for all the love, annoyances, and silliness that are wrapped up in our last ten years together. But right now all I can think is,
I’d stay with her forever if I could.