Saying Goodbye

I've had 3 canine companions in my life. Droopy, a wiener dog I had as a very small child (gotta love that name, huh?); Betsy, a german-shorthair pointer I got for my 8th birthday; and Rocky, a beagle that was a gift from my wife 12 years ago.

I was too young to really remember what became of Droopy. Because I was away at college, my dad ended up taking Betsy in her old age and did an incredible job with her "hospice" care. Today, I had to bury Rocky.

We had a tree go down in our back yard which took out part of our fence. Rocky escaped and spent about 12 hours running loose before someone took him to the pound. When we got him back, we noticed he couldn't walk very well. Soon, he couldn't walk at all, wouldn't eat, and was noticeably in a lot of pain. Turns out, his back had gotten "really messed up" on his little outing. Don't know what happened (car? a cruel person?), and probably don't want to know. The vet said that he wouldn't get better. So we had him put down.

When we're young, we never really think about the fact that we will have to say goodbye to pets. We don't really have any concept of lifespan. However, when we get older, we know better. We know that we'll bond to these animals, talk to them, process with them, call them "friend" and then one day - most likely bury them. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we put ourselves through that pain? Why would you ever go out and get another dog - train it, care for it, love it, etc. only to one day have to say goodbye? I'm not sure why... but one day, I'll probably do it again.

For today though, I'll just quietly miss Rocky. The talks, the walks - him just being there... always being there to listen. That's a good friend.