It has been three months since you've left this world and not a day goes by that I don't mourn the loss of you, that I don't cry, that I don't wish for just five more minutes together. I hope that our decision ended your pain and suffering. Everything happened so fast and there were no good options. Neither Matthew nor I could see subjecting you to the surgery that may not have worked and, if it did work, would leave you in pain (and you would still likely die). Rock/ hard place. I never thought we'd be leaving the hospital without you.
I am honored to have been your lady. Your love and loyalty was boundless. I hope we were able to give you half the joy you gave to us. I don't believe I rescued you - I believe we rescued each other. I miss the warmth of your small body at my back, I miss your sweet, smelly kisses, I miss rubbing your belly. The house is empty without you here and I find that I call your name from time to time hoping you'll come running into my lap. I am sadly happy (is that even possible?) that I was there to hold you and kiss you and love you while the vet put you down. I cry almost every time I hear the song that was playing when you passed. I hope it comforted you to have me by your side. Your ashes are on the mantle now and I'm glad you are home in that way. I do not know if I will save them until it is my time to go and have us mixed together and released on the beach, or if I will plant a tree for you and bury them there. I still cannot believe you are gone.
I remember how sick you were when we first brought you home and how I would pick your clogged nose so you could breathe, how I slept in the guest room so you wouldn't be alone, how I brought you into our bed with the rest of the pack when you were better. Loving you is one of the best things I ever got the chance to do. I hope you know how loved you were - and how loved you still are. I miss you every single day.
Until we meet again, I remain your faithful lady.
Sleep in peace my little one. Be in pain no more.