The loss of a dear pet is one of the hardest things to bear. I’ve lost pets before, in different ways, but nothing truly prepares you for the slow, painful anticipation of a loss you see coming.
It all started when my guard dog, Odie, missed his rabies shot. If only he could talk to remind us, nudge us. I was oblivious, until a few nights back when the signs began to show. The vet confirmed it, and more painfully still, there’s no choice but to watch him go, slowly.
He’s fighting a battle he can’t win, and he seems to know it. He isn’t wild or restless but just lies there quietly waiting for dusk to come. His exit will be gracious (if that word even fits), full of dignity… but I still can’t bring myself to accept it. Maybe writing this down, setting it free, will help.
He may just be a guard dog, not a house pet curled up on the couch, but words can’t quite hold his absence and the emptiness left behind. I named him after the dog from my favourite childhood movie — Garfield. The resemblance was there — he had the same look, the same naivety and even the cheerfulness. Not to forget his little beef with my cats (little Garfields themselves). He was the bully though 😂.
We expect him to guard the stars tonight but he is deeply missed.
Run free, little one.
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