Things I Wished I Had Said to My Dog as I Drove Her to the Vet to Be Euthanized

I love you. I have loved you since I first saw your wide grin and big brown eyes. Since the moment you flopped over on the pet store floor and demanded scritches. You were loving and playful and ready for a new home. 

You were almost four. I don’t know how anyone could have given you up.

I had sworn I would never get another dog. Not after my last broke my heart. But you were special. I knew then you belonged to us. You were already a member of our family.

You were such trouble. The little escape artist. There was no fence you couldn’t dig under, no closing door you couldn’t rush through. You would disappear and we would chase after you. Following your nose, your signature troublemaker, you would run into traffic without a care in the world. We would drive around and call your name. Eventually, you would find your way back. That big grin would be plastered on your face. You’d want food and loving and you’d act like nothing had happened at all.

You destroyed the first kennel I ever bought you. It lasted less than thirty minutes. I underestimated your drive to be free. Nothing could or would contain you.

I took you to training classes and you laughed. The instructor warned me that dogs like you were clever and bull-headed. She was right.

You wouldn’t be trained but I still enjoyed that time together.

You would eat until there was no more food you could reach. We were really looking forward to that artisanal loaf of bread we bought at the Farmer’s Market. But you decided it was yours and ate almost the whole thing.

Other dogs didn’t interest you, unless you thought they were in your turf. You wanted to be around the people. You weren’t shy about demanding attention. You’d stick your muzzle into my face to say hello and lick my eyelids until I gave you enough pets.

But you never got enough pets.

When I moved away from the family to start a new job, you came with me. It was just us down there for a month. Every night, after your adventures in the backyard, you’d jump up onto the couch next to me and sleep. I found such comfort in your little rumbling snores.

When everything in my life imploded, years later, and I was living on my own for good this time, you came to stay with me.

I wanted to spend every evening sunken into a depressive funk but you demanded your walks. You got me moving, got me out of my head. After, you’d demand a treat and some cuddle time on the floor.

You couldn’t jump onto the couch anymore.

I’d take a selfie of us and post it online. You knew when it was picture time and you’d try to get away. You didn’t like having your picture taken but I got the shot anyhow.

Six months into our new life, you stopped walking very well. Your back feet knuckled under you. You’d lose balance. You’d look up to me for help.

The vet said it was degenerative. It was only going to get worse. It was common in dogs like you. Especially older ones.

I didn’t want to admit it but you were old.

We celebrated your thirteenth birthday, just the two of us. I got you special treats. We made an evening of it. My special girl’s big day.

I knew. I knew it would be the last birthday you ever had.

When I went looking for a new house for us, to get us out of that apartment, I wanted a big yard for you. And we got one.

You spent all day every day out there. You’d wake up in the morning and I’d help you down the stairs. You’d gobble up your breakfast and demand to go outside.

I’d check on you throughout the day. You explored every inch of that yard. You were so happy.

Every evening, I’d help you back in. I’d help you back up the stairs.

Out every morning. In every evening.

Those ins, those outs. They were getting harder for you. Too hard.

You’d come in and you’d eat and you’d drag yourself over to the rug. You’d sit and you’d shake. You’d demand love. And I would give it.

I’m not mad at you. I know I’m crying and I know I’m screaming but it’s not at you. We are turning onto the last road and I have been driving tear-blind this entire time. One hand on the wheel. Another, gently rubbing your back.

You did nothing wrong. You were such a good girl. You were with me and you loved me when I didn’t feel like I was worth any love at all.

You healed me. I never thought I’d want another dog. I thought I could never love another dog. But you healed my heart.

I can’t imagine a world where you’re not with me. Cuddled up next to me. Snoring those sweet, sweet snores. Demanding pets. Giving even more love than you got.

You saved me. And I wish I could save you. I wish I could snap my fingers and make everything better. But you’re very sick. And you’re in a lot of pain. And there’s nothing anyone can do to take that away.

I know you don’t understand. I know you think we’re just going for a drive. You loved drives. I forgot to mention that.

But now we have to say goodbye. And I’m not ready. My hope, my dearest hope, is that you are. And I’m not some monster who takes away your life when all you did was love me.

We’re going to go into this room. You’re going to go to sleep. I will be with you. I will be crying. I will be screaming. But I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everything but you. I’m mad at life. And I’m mad at me. And I’m mad at a world that gives us such sweet creatures and then takes them away.

I love you. I love you.

I will love you always.

I hope you can forgive me. I hope, in some way, we get to see each other again.

I love you. It’s time to go to sleep.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Lainey the Beagle

05.05.2007 – 10.14.2020