Up until a few days before his death we were managing his kidney failure.  He was a sprightly dog at age 16..  He had slowed down this past six months, but for a dog his age people were amazed at his vitality, vigor and enjoyment of life.  His beauty was constantly commented upon.  When he was running, his plume of a tail up and flowing and his eyes bright with glee, he was a sight to behold and always brought a smile to my face.  The fellow dog lovers/owners who we encountered  regularly on our daily hikes in Susquehanna State Park loved him, as did many others who were part of our routine weekly rituals.  He went with me everywhere.

I have been retired for the past five years, the same five years that Ty lived with us.  I remember the day he moved in.  How his prior mistress cried at having to re-home him.  I could see how she loved him and he her.   But life often turns the tables on one and his living situation had become unbearable so she sought help for him.  It was the right thing to do. He was anxious and stressed at the adverse living conditions that had made her seek a new home for him.  Ty had chewed his paws, bitten his lips, and some days she said he refused to eat. 

Well, all that changed.  He was now numero uno in our household.  He was elevated to top dog and full -on partner to the mistress of the house, me.  We all fell in love with him.  After the initial vet visit, Ty and I hit the trails.  My bed was his bed.  Where I went, he went.  And the two men I live with, my husband and my adult son delighted in his personality and good will for all family members.  Ty had never lived with cats, but he adjusted readily.  We lost Louie to cancer that year.  We adopted semi-feral Foxy within months.  Foxy and Ty bonded. Ty would bound in from an outing, initiate a play bow as Foxy seeing our approach would come running to meet him at the door.

When the elderly wellness six month check came back with bad news on his blood counts, I knew we were moving toward the end.  But he was still fully engaged in living, so we did.  We lived.  We lived up until the night that his kidney failure took a sharp turn for the worse.  It was a rough night.  Foxy stayed with us offering cat support.  I had made the promise to Ty, that I would not let him suffer needlessly.  Yes, there were tears…sobs, raking body sobs that night.  The finality was upon us.  In the morning I made the call to you.  You came.  You gave him the respect and dignity he deserved and honored the gravitas of his death. 

His immediate family were there for him.  He knew he was dying.  He accepted it.  He had no fear.  He chose to die surrounded by us, the energy supporting him in his time was palpable as he lay on my, our bed.  So he passed with my face buried in his fur.  I heard his heart slow and cease.  Such a good dog.  Such a fine soul. 

Our lives here now in Ty’s home have huge holes in them.  The relationship has ended.  We have the memories, never nearly even coming close to the real thing.  We’ve had grief visit us before.  We know how it is.  Our last gift to Ty was stopping the pain, releasing him, allowing him to pass with dignity and grace.  Thank you for coming.  Thank you for stepping right up and doing something to help him.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

My beautiful boy is flying free once more.