My phone felt like cement in my hand. Bringing it to my ear was a monumental task and took all of my energy; scheduling the appointment I didn’t want to make. Telling the vet, I am ready, when I am anything but. I am not ready, but Peanut is. He is in pain. He is sad. He is tired. Seventeen years old is something for a dog; 119 years in people years. No wonder he is trembling with every breath. Then so am I, but for different reasons.

I never wanted this little dog. (More about him here)  He was our inheritance from Ray. He followed my every step, right on my heels. Another creature I had to keep alive. Yet, he stuck with me and convinced me that I needed him in my life. And he was so right. I needed a therapy dog. I need him now more than ever, but it is selfish for me to keep him here when he is so miserable. I’m not sure how to grieve without him.

After all my human losses this year, you would think a pet loss wouldn’t feel as big as this feels. In this moment, the decisions feel so similar. Can he get better? Can he overcome whatever this is that is happening to his little body? He is 119, is it even realistic to expect more than this most recent decline? The answer is no to all of the above. We have tried everything we could.

He sits here beside me as I am typing. It is his usual spot…my writing assistant. When I need to stop to think or feel, he is there for me to pet. He soothes me. His presence is a comfort. I never knew this part about little dogs. They are comforters. He was happy to teach me what I didn’t know. His nubby tail wagging. The corners of his mouth turning up in a big smile. But there are no more smiles or tail wagging. That is how I know it is time. His usual demeanor is subdued. He can’t get comfortable. Sitting hurts him. Standing is preferred. But even then, he sways and struggles to keep upright. He whines. Turns in circles. It is time.

The appointment is made. The one we knew would come at some point. We leave in 15 minutes to say our goodbyes. Can I just say…I am so tired of goodbyes? Never-ending tears it seems. Life and death. Love and grief. They go hand in hand. I cannot have one without the other.  

What a wonderful little dog Peanut has been. He was a superstar in the community where Ray lived. He brought smiles to all the faces of the residents. Mom loved him too when she was sick. He could break through the dementia fog. Shepherd loves him and chases him all over the house. He has a way of perking people up. His personality is as big as any Great Dane. He is off the cuteness meter. He’s just fun. He will be missed more than I knew I could miss a dog.

Peanut has taught me a lot. About myself. About joy. About comfort. However, the main lesson he has taught me is that sometimes love is little-dog shaped.

Here we go… 😦