10/03/2025
I have this little dog.
His name is Mikey.
He is in his 18th year of life.
Three weeks ago, he took ‘a turn for the worse’. His breathing was a struggle. He couldn’t sleep because of it, so he would collapse wherever he was for a few moments, and then his breathing would stop and he would jerk back up again. So weak, shaky…. so tired…
He is my best friend, my souldog.
He’s seen everything, and been through it all with me, and has been beside me every step of the way.
He is my little protector.
My Knight In Shining Armour.
He once stood down a horse that was charging toward me ( long story ) and the horse reared and retreated.
Mighty Mike.
Iron Mike.
Michael.
Mike-Mike.
My Little Love.
I gave him his medicine. He was still drinking a bit of water, barely eating.
I knew I couldn’t be selfish, not even for a minute. His life had been long and so filled with love. He deserved to go without pain, without suffering.
I made the call.
I booked the appointment.
It was for 2 o’clock the next day.
I went to bed, Mikey tucked in beside me, ready for another long, sleepless night, partly because of his struggle to breathe, and of course because it was our last night.
How do I say goodbye to the purest, most unconditional love one can know?
How do I go forward without him riding shotgun?
How do I go on without the sweetest little mannen beside me…?
How?
I prayed. And prayed, and prayed.
Not for him to live, but for him to go peacefully, and without pain.
I thanked God for bringing him into my life, and for almost 18 incredible years of love and joy and companionship.
I asked God to please stop his suffering.
I asked God for strength to do what was right by him.
I mean.. was I doing the right thing?
The vet assured me I was, yet I couldn’t comprehend it. The act. I was on some sort of auto pilot, that left me almost numb.
Sometime that night, I fell asleep.
I woke up, and it was quiet.
Eerily quiet.
I had become used to Mikey’s loud, stunted breathing and gasps for air. His inability to lay still, likely running from pain.
But it was quiet.
I pulled back the cover, preparing to kiss him one last time, but …. He was warm.
His breathing was rhythmic again.
He was sleeping.
SOUNDLY.
On the day he was scheduled to be euthanized, he trotted down the length of the porch, down three steps onto the grass, and lifted his leg to p*e. ( he had been too weak to do so for quite some time ).
I cheered!
He looked at me ( and saw me - he hadn’t been ‘present’ for awhile ) as if to say ‘Hey Mum, what’s the big deal, I’m just p*eing’.
His appetite was voracious that day.
Now, Ive heard of the calm before the storm. The last ‘hurrah’.
I wasnt sure if thats what this was, but as soon as the vet clinic opened, I cancelled the appointment.
That was 7 days ago.
Each day he has gotten better.
He’s back to ‘normal’ again.
I don’t know what happened, but as I write this, he’s looking at me, ready to start another day of shenanigans….
I have no words for this gift, and I don’t know how long it will last, but I am so grateful.
Actually, I have words… three of them.
Thank You God. 🙏🏻
