RIP

It is, undoubtedly, with great regret and sorrow that I sit here typing away at these last few letters on the keyboard. To put into words what has been taken away is difficult. The urge to write poetic words of enlightenment, joy and comfort fail. Only my memories are experienced; I can’t type them. I can’t share them like that; I don’t know how.

Twelve years of love; twelve years of joy; twelve years of life. And nearly a year and a half thereafter to watch it slowly decline… Inevitability is a rather ironic word. Don’t ask me why; I’m not going to tell you.

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a loss quite like this. Not one so close, nor so much a part of me. At the tender age of ninety-one—dog years, of course—the beloved jewel to your left and on the contents page passed. Not on her own, though; life became unbearable for her. It was the only option.

She is the greatest dog you never had the opportunity to meet. At least you know what she looks like.