I curiously find myself lying on a pad in the vet’s office. Mom and Dad are gazing down at me, tears streaming from their eyes, telling me that everything is going to be OK.
As always, I can somehow feel what they are thinking. Their thoughts carry me back to when we first met at a canine adoption event; adapting to my new home; running like the wind as I chase that poor Frisbee that could never get away; bounding through the house, out to the yard where I explored for hours; writing children’s books which I hoped brought joy to many…
The vet is now sticking a needle in my hip, and she tells me that I will be getting very sleepy. As I grow drowsy, I hear Mom and Dad say that they will always love me, and that soon I will be in a great place. I think about that. What could be a greater place than where I was living? Mom and Dad look so sad, and I want to tell them that I’m OK, that my purpose was to make them happy and now it doesn’t seem like I’m succeeding.
But I think I get it. For the last year, I have not been myself. I’m a dog, so I can’t explain the technical ailments. I just know that I could no longer run and I had some kind of stomach ache. So now, I think they brought me here to peacefully end my life, and that explains the tears. I want to tell Mom and Dad how much I love them, but I’m sure they know.
As I sink deeper into sleep, I can barely feel another needle entering my rear leg. I feel myself drifting away..maybe heading to that great place they were talking about. And now, with Mom and Dad cradling my head, I can feel their love propelling me – willing me – into a wondrous realm of painless joy. Perhaps I’ll see them again in that place. I sure hope so. If it is even half as nice as where I’ve been, it must be fantastic. It’s sad to leave, but there is no choice. And, come to think of it, I am ready for another adventure.