I left work in the middle of the day yesterday to escort my beloved home from the hospital after a minor surgical intervention. Once home I paused to gently scratch the neck of my little dog Poupoune — my first ever dog — the one who used to be packed full of personality, eager to please and do and be useful; who helped save my beloved’s life when he was depressed; the one who at the venerable age of sixteen has begun withdrawing from life — and she tensed up and curled her tail between her legs.
She was suffering.
I called the vet and we’ll be putting her down tomorrow afternoon. My beloved has been busy preparing.
She has been dearly loved and will be sorely missed.