Sparky's Leaving Us

My friend's Sparky dog, who long outlasted the prediction for lifespan with her cancer, is at the end. We've known it's coming; she's gotten worse and worse more rapidly lately and has deteriorated a lot, although she still perks up for special events. Her mom has arranged for the doctor to come tomorrow and give her the final injection. I'm already so exhausted, I wouldn't think that I could add another weight to my load, but even though I know that she's succeeded in living a wonderful life far beyond medical's expectations, it still feels like a defeat by the cancer demon, and I hear his footsteps growing louder. One thing about coming to the end is that the waiting and wondering is over. No more, "are we at the point of no return or will it get better again?" "am I doing the right thing?" "is s/he in too much pain?" I know the tension is felt by the dog as well.

I cannot think of any words that would give me comfort when I finally come to the same decision; how can I find anything for someone else? I know that lots of people care about me and Remington, and have shown it all along, and I think perhaps that's enough and that's all I'd need. Don't know yet, though. When Amber died, every time someone said, "I'm sorry," I'd start crying again.

I guess I could say, "Man, that Sparky is a great dog." It's true and it's important. And it doesn't demand a response. Sigh.

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