The four of us loaded up into the car for the final drive to the vet clinic. It was the first time the old dog actually laid his head in Kyle’s lap and I recall thinking perhaps he knows this is the last time he’ll get to go “bye-bye.”
Inside the vet clinic, we were escorted to a private room where we sat on the floor with the old lab. Kyle and Kay pet and rubbed his belly while I brushed his flaky, dry brown coat.
It was harder on them to say good-bye than for me as I was staying with Chubbs until the very end. I believe he deserved to have his pack-leader by his side as he left this world.
He had been given a sedative and he breathed easier for the first time in months. I knew then I had waited longer than I should have to do what was about to happen.
My thoughts raced as the doctor pushed the final solution into my pet’s leg vein. I whispered, “I love you,” and told him he was “a good boy,” as I rubbed his chest and belly.
It took seconds for his big ol’ heart to stop beating. While I didn’t feel that, I felt, heard and saw his massive chest heave out that long, last and forever final breath.
The tears welled up in my eyes and washed down my face as I leaned over and smelled his fur. They puddled up, leaving wet spots on his ear and cheekbone.
I whispered, “I’m so sorry Chubbs that I couldn’t protect you from this.”
Then I lifted his lifeless form from the floor and laid him on the table. It was the last bit of dignity I could offer my best friend.