On the loss of mans best friend. My best friend.
Today is August 23rd. Exactly two years from the day my father passed away. Maybe it's no coincidence that today was the day I had to put Belle down. After thirteen years it was finally time to let her go. She was a great dog. A great friend. She was a constant in my life for all those years. She was like a child to me. And for those people who feel the same way about their dogs as I do, they will understand. There aren’t as many people as I would have thought that can understand that. But to a true dog lover, a dog is not some animal that lives outside in the back yard, but instead is a part of the family. A dog is a part of you.
You can easily spot the few people that understand that. They are the ones that come over to your house for a visit, or for dinner, and when they enter your house, they immediately bend down to pet the dog. They get right down with the dog. It's an easy give-away. They are the ones who bring their own dog into their home, instead of having the dog chained up in the back yard. They are the ones who let the dog sleep inside, with the rest of the family. And, if late at night, they hear a noise in the basement, perhaps an intruder, they are the ones that are thinking, I've got to protect the dog. Yes, protect the dog.
Being a dog's owner has its share of responsibilities. The biggest responsibility I had as Belle's owner was taking care of her today. Today was her day. And as her owner, as her friend, it was my job to objectively know when it was time. We all want to hang on longer, but it was her time. That was my job. To stand and say that. To come to grips with it. I'm not going to let her go on any longer than she should. She hasn’t eaten well at all in the past several weeks. And she hasn’t really eaten anything in the past three days. Her back legs just stopped working. She couldn’t really walk. Thank god she didn’t look like she was in pain, but she just looked helpless. And I knew. I just knew.
It is such a great thing to be able to be there in the very end. I got that chance. I always hoped I would have that chance. To be there with her. To hold her. To say goodbye. And to watch as her eyes, always dancing, finally just weren’t dancing anymore. It was just before the doctor quietly told me that her heart had stopped beating that I could tell by the look in her eyes. The dance had gone. Ever so quietly. It had gone.
Goodbye Belle
