I don’t care what anyone says, being present while something passes on is not beautiful. When hunting, there is reverence and gratefulness for the life that was given in sustenance. But I can also speak personally that there is elation but also heaviness. In some cases, killing a varmint is a closure of rage. It is me, besting my enemy that has sought to cause me harm by stealing and damaging my property.

People that are experienced such as a butcher justify the event as ‘better than the alternative’ and use the phrase they ‘had a good life’. Now, I am not going to stop eating meat and I believe that God put resources on this planet for our survival. It still doesn’t make the situation any easier.

When it is a person, sometimes there is regret or fear or doubt. We have a whole metaphysical justification with the soul and higher calling and no longer in pain. I am going to largely leave people out of this conversation because unlike pets or livestock our relations are significantly more complicated as well as typically significantly longer. There are so many dynamics such as old versus young, accident versus sickness etc.

My dog was six years old. Forget dog years and all of that, this was something that was cared and nurtured for a short period of time. It would be as if of a six year old got terminal cancer. We are as parents still our children’s everything until at least twelve or thirteen when they are able to start acting somewhat independent such as thinking beyond the moment, self care and transporting themselves in some way. By the way, I am not saying children and pets are equivalent, they simply share many of the same needs on a similar time line.

Our girl stopped eating Wednesday night. We had gone through this rodeo a couple of months earlier. At that point, we were able to get some steroids and she seemed mostly normal for a couple of months. But now, the medicine was not working. To make matters worse, she would drink water and then vomit. Even if we tried to get some medicine down, her mouth would become foamy and she would start heaving. Time to circle the wagons.

In our area, there is a service that can schedule a vet out to euthanize a pet or livestock. For that, we set an appointment when we could see death was imminent. In the meantime Raya wanted to be close but not be seen. She was upstairs while we worked but hidden behind the bed. She didn’t make it to the appointment. About 10PM Friday, we heard a death groan. I stroked her head and my wife prayed for a quick passing. In about ten minutes, her struggle was over and she was gone.

Part of me was very relieved that we were no longer subject to the countdown clock. Part of me felt angry that we were selfish in wanting to schedule her passing for when it was convenient for us. And yet, after she died I felt a sense of relief. My wife and I embraced and cried. I have heard it said that abundant life also requires abundant death. One does not exist at the exclusion of the other. I get that, I just hurts is all.

To My Sweet Girl, Raya Hope.

You came into our lives at a period of global instability. We were still grieving the sudden loss of our beloved Snowflake. I was sure that you were not going to be a suitable replacement. But you earned your place with my respect and you did it in a different way.

You did not instantly love every person that walked by. Instead, you protected your people first until you knew that there was no threat. Then you loved them just the same. I can respect that because I felt like I could trust that you had our best interest in mind. I could also feel relatively comforted that you were all bark and no bite. You were intimidating without being dangerous. Yet, I have no doubt that you would put yourself between the bear and us without hesitation.

I am grateful for the time that we were out of town for cancer treatment and yet you were barking out the window at the stranger loitering on the corner. Your teenage brother was scared but assured that you had his back. On more than one occasion your presence gave confidence to the kids that they were going to be OK as long as you were on the job.

Don’t get me wrong, you were sometimes annoying. Like when we would lock you up to keep you away from someone working at the house and you would bark incessantly because we didn’t give you the opportunity to do your job. Or when you thought that the cinnamon rolls were made specifically for you. Those are the things that we will look back in time and chuckle about but it is also what endears us.

I am crushed to lose a good companion so prematurely. You can rest assured that there will not be another one like you, the right combination of Burmese and Golden. I want you to know that we will be OK and that your time of watching over us is complete. I thank you for the job you did, you were loved and you will be missed.

Love, Dad