Note to readers: You might want to grab a Kleenex.
You’re sleeping soundly in the dining room, right in front of the door as you always do this time of day. Must have been the Xanax I gave you.
We had a rough weekend, didn’t we? More so you than your dad and me. We can't fix what's wrong anymore and you deserve more than this life of chronic pain. It is why we've decided to make today your last day. And it is with immense sadness that we will say goodbye to you at 2:30.
Remember 10 years ago when we adopted you from the pound? You were a mangy, sick, unneutered 2-year-old Golden Retriever, only no one believed you were a Golden because you looked so bad. But you showed those naysayers, with your lovely coat and big Golden personality.
For all your shenanigans – all the times you knocked me over or stole my food, ran away and made me chase you all over town, barked at the mailman, peed on the neighbors flower bed (actually, she was mean, so I really wasn’t mad at you for that) – I will miss you deeply.
Thank you, Jake, for always coming to find me when you heard me crying. No one understands me the way you do. You will take with you all my stories and secrets. Thank you for being my confidant all these years.
Thank you always forgiving me when I yelled at you.
Thank you for sharing my apples and keeping me company in the kitchen while I chopped carrots. You knew I’d always give you the ends.
Thank you for being so kind to my grandchildren. Claire will wonder where you are next time she’s here. Not sure how I’m going to explain that one.
Soon we will feed you popcorn and an apple with peanut butter. Maybe even one last piece of cheese. The good stuff, not the kind in the wrapper.
Good bye, old man. I love you and will miss you so very, very much. Especially when I vacuum.
Say hi to Sasha and Bungee for me, OK? Tell them I still miss them, too.
My daughter also wrote about Jake today on her blog, Sisters From Different Misters.
Jake and his Elvis impersonation.