Submitted by Kelli E:
When I was in the 6th grade, my dad begged my mom to let us have a dog and she kept saying no. On his birthday, my family wandered into a pet store to look at all of the puppies. Dad wanted a Basset Hound, but this rambunctious little Lhasa Apso kept trying to get our attention. We asked the attendant if we could visit with her and it was love affair ever since. A short fifteen minutes later, my mom paid for a dog that she thought she didn’t want.
We named her Magic. It wasn’t long until she captured the hearts of our entire family and soon our large group of friends. She played, learned tricks easily, and kept quiet most of the time. She slept in the bed with me as soon as she was potty-trained. She was the best cuddle buddy. We went on adventures to parks and lakes. She experienced life and love. She cared about my dad, my mom, my brother, and me in her own little ways and differently for each. She was the greatest friend and such an important part of this family.
It’s twelve years later and she was diagnosed with diabetes. She had arthritis in both of her back legs and lost most of her energy. She kept her same sweet smile and demeanor throughout the years and even the moments right before she left. I always asked her (even when she was still a puppy) to take it easy on me when it was time to go. At the age of 23, I’m aware that dying is a part of life, but that knowledge doesn’t seem to make the hurt go away. I got back from a trip to Florida this past Tuesday. She started to get sick that night. We took her to the veterinarian and she did the best she could do and asked us to come back the next morning to see the progress. She came home high on pain medication, but we all still had hope. This morning she woke up in so much pain. My dad took her to the vet again and we were told it was time. We brought her home one last time and we got to say our good-byes. She let me hold her and tell her how much she meant to me. We made the final trip back to the veterinarian together. She was only on the table for a minute before she passed away on her own. She suffered for less than 24 hours.
That’s the funny thing about dogs. The care about everyone more than themselves. I wouldn’t put Magic through pain and suffering to keep her here, but it’s like she waited. She waited for me to get back from my trip. She waited for my mom and my brother to get in from work. We were all able to say good-bye as a family to the greatest gift God gave us that we never knew we wanted. I have this image in my head of her in heaven - she’s able to run and eat whatever snacks she wants. Then there’s this big glass door that she waits at every once in awhile to see when we’re coming home.
I love you, sweet lady and I can’t wait to hold you again.