Saying Goodbye

Saying goodbye is never an easy thing to do. Yes, I know that someone once wrote that as a song and no, I don't know who or even what the song is right now. The point I'm making is that tonight I can say that nothing has ever been more true. How do you say goodbye to a trusted friend, a loyal pet, the sweetest girl that was ever put on the face of the earth? Dare I say a member of the family? Yes, there are those who will read this and think that I'm one of those people, but I don't care. Truth is, saying goodbye in the way I had to tonight is something that I'll never ever forget and the scars that remain will stay for a long time. Part of my healing process is this tribute to the #2 in my life. Besides Becky, my wife of 10+ years, sweet Tera (a.k.a. Pantera) has been a constant for 7 1/2 years. When she began to limp on her front paw a little over a week ago we suspected perhaps a pulled muscle as she had done about two years ago. Then we thought perhaps arthritis. Greyhounds are prime candidates for it. But when I got a call over lunch today and Becky described to me that it was back (the limp) and much worse than we had seen before we were giving her some medication I didn't think much. I thought perhaps just a bad day. Besides, I was in the process of finishing a few work items that had been hanging over me for a few weeks. After work I had to go and pick up my new car (2005; but new to me). We did the paperwork, Becky left for home and I finished swapping out cars. Normally a banner day for me. But upon my arrival home I saw what I had feared. A dog who was in pain with no sign that this was something simple. Our dear friend Wendy who has been with us from the beginning came over and confirmed what I knew needed to happen. No, this was not a pulled muscle, it was not arthritis. It was something worse. She would never make it to her follow-up x-ray in two more weeks. The initial picture showed something in the structure of her elbow that was 50/50 arthritis, 50/50 cancer. I had to help her drag herself out our front door, down the sidewalk and into her van. I had to hold her up on the drive to the vets and then I had to hold her up and support her as the doc inserted the injection that would take her life. She died in my arms. I am so happy for the time we spent together and so sad for the time we will never have again. She is not coming back. The void that exists will pass. Of that I'm sure. But for now it is pain. Pain that makes marathon pain seem like a walk in the park. Everyone has a dog that is the best dog in the world. But tonight, that's my dog. And I hope she is frollicking somewhere with all of the other greyhounds and pets who have passed onto the rainbow bridge. Where there is no more pain. No more suffering, and where one day we will reunite and I can pat her head and make her smile like she always did for me. I will miss you Tera. More than you'll ever know. I hope we made your life worth living and I pray that your final moments did not hurt you like they did me. You are the best and know that you will never be forgotten. No way. Never.