I can't help but face this now... our dog, Chewy, is probably dying. He curls up in a corner now, blind, rattled, weak and deaf and just lifts up his head to drink and to eat a few measly bites of his meal.
I don't want to write yet about what Chewy means to me. I'm just saddened by the fact that at his last moments, I don't even have the courage to hug him and to pet him and care for him. I can only stand there in front of him and whisper soothing but useless words of comfort, trying to alleviate some unknown fears he might be having of what's happening to him.
I don't want to write yet, because I'll never be ready to say goodbye to a faithful friend. Someone who loves me unconditionally, even if it means fighting till the end because that how I would want him to go.
I'll never be ready but if it's time, I don't want him to suffer a moment longer.
I'll say goodbye then.
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