I woke up that day in June and knew it was time.
I had been thinking about it for months, but didn’t know it as clearly as I did that sunny morning.
Mom came over and we put you in your cage… once we were able to pluck you from your hiding place behind the T.V. It seemed like a particularly cruel thing to do on such a sad day.
Driving in the car you wailed and cried. Your cries always sounded like someone was pulling your nails out one by one. Blood curdling. Sitting at the stoplight a woman looked over at me as if I had a screaming child stuffed in my trunk.
As we got closer I wondered, for a brief moment, if it was a good idea. But, I knew it was because I always regretted not going inside with Marney and Ben. I can still see, in my mind, how it looked to walk out the door and get in our car without seeing it through. We could see our beloved pet being led through the back door by the assistant….without us….their best friends. The ones they trusted the most. How could we just leave them like that?
Back to that clear summer morning and the dreaded task we faced. We arrived. They were nicer to us than usual. We were directed straight into a quiet room where you were able to get out of your cage and roam around. But, you didn’t.
You sat in my lap and whimpered.
The next part is like it happened just yesterday instead of 6 years ago.
Then he came in.
Dr. Bagglio was as kind as sweet as he could have been. “Hi Sam,” he said. “Good boy, Sam.” We put you on a table and I held you against my body.
I’ll never forget the feeling. You had life inside you. You were breathing. And then, you weren’t. The little heart beat I could feel against my stomach just stopped. With that my stomach felt sick. You felt empty. Vacant.
Your lifeless little furry body lay limp in my arms and I burst into tears. My only solace at that moment was knowing that I was right to be there with you at your final moment.
No regrets. And….no more pets. I can’t do this anymore!