Sunday, Oct 3, 2004

I've been sick for a couple weeks. Mom has been trying to keep me comfortable. When she comes to pet me or feed me I can feel her sadness and her grief. I try to tell her with my eyes and my kisses that everything will be fine. We've been together over 11 years. Partners in work, the best of friends, almost completely inseparable. I feel her tears landing on my head and this time I can't make her smile. I'm tired now. She's been trying to say goodbye to me for a couple weeks and I've been trying to hold on for her. She's been giving me good treats, lots of people food (I have NEVER gotten people food before.) She understood me when I told her that this time I was not going to get better. I know she has something planned for me on Wednesday, but I think today would be a better day to go. I know Mom won't understand today, but maybe she will someday. My time isn't Wednesday, it's today.

As I slowly start to slip away I can sense Mom's shock and confusion and grief. I look at her one last time and I can feel her grief change to acceptance as she strokes my head and rocks me as Dad is rocking her. She tells me it's okay, and she loves me. I can feel it from their hearts. I see in their eyes that they understand and they will let me go with happiness and love into peace.

I will miss them, and I will be waiting for them on the other side of the Rainbow bridge. . .