Scarlett, my 14-year-old majestic standard poodle, had to be put down last year, and every day I miss her. She was as much a part of our family as my husband and children. If I was sad or upset, a wet, woolly nose would nudge my hand, then she would bend her head to allow me to hug her. She knew I’d feel better for it. How I needed that comfort when she’d gone. My grief was absolute. Yes, she’d been frail and stiff and I believed the vet when they said it was time. But I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her and I wept without self-consciousness as she slipped away — and often in the months after.
Load More
Load More