Never forgotten...

Choosing to put down my horse was easier than my dog. When I accept the responsibility of adopting both of them it included the understanding and the promise that there would be no leaving them behind if I moved, no giving them away to someone else when they were inconvenient, no shirking the responsibility of the final decision. I promised I would love and care for them to the last breath.

My horse struggled his whole life with back problems and colic. I owned him for the last five years of his life. He was 23 when I made the decision, 12 years ago. He'd suffered another severe colic in the spring, and the vet told me he only had three viable teeth left. He needed to be put on a soft mash/liquid diet. My child who loved to eat couldn't. I talked to him, asked him if he was ready to go Home, and a resounding 'yes' reverberated in my soul. It was difficult putting him down, but I knew the timing was right. I stood at his head and shared his last breath, felt the sense of freedom and relief and joy in the next moment. Even knowing I'd made the right decision, it was four years later before I was finally fully at peace.

My dog was 17 and her health failing, but I never felt like the time was right. My horse asked to go Home. My dog never did. My sister believes my dog never would. It’s been 8 years. I still miss her. I still cry. I’m not sorry. The lovely part is that my good friends understand and don’t mind at all. There was no way I could ever be prepared for her loss. In some of my prayers, I still ask God to throw a ball for her and tell her how much I love her and miss her. And yes, I’m crying as I write this, but I don’t regret it, not any of it, not the laughter or the tears.