Today, I put my dog in the car and though he doesn't yet know it, he's never going to see me again. I didn't want to do it, but I know it's the best thing. My work schedule has been brutal the last eighteen months. It's not been good for him, and I can see it in his spirit.
He's going to live with a wonderful lady on a ranch. He'll have friends there - two cats, another dog, and two horses. He's going to walk in the forest every day with the horses and spend the days at the stables. And his new lady is retired and won't leave him in a kennel for weeks at a time.
All the same, it's hard. His love was generous. He stayed by my feet and made sure I never felt alone. He walked me back to health after my operations, using all his strength to pull me up the hills until I could do it myself. Then, when I was finally ready, we started running, and eventually ran a 5K together (Buddy finished ahead.)
He kept me company in the art studio, happily sleeping in his bed in winter or sitting outside on the front porch in summer. And no matter what, he was always just *thrilled* to see me. That's hard to match.
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