Sammy

 

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away.

– Revelation 21:4

He was smart and stubborn. He was my protector and rarely left my side. He loved licking bowls and eating treats of any kind. He was bribable in the best way. He loved walks in the pasture and aggravating his sister.

His body failed him in the end. His hind legs were barely functioning. His back pain sometimes caused him to cry out. His eyesight was almost gone. But he was still so happy.

I helped him stand when his body refused to lift his backside up. He rested against me until he could gain his balance. I covered him with my body when he started to slip down the stairs. We made countless trips to the veterinarian but there was no magic pill.

He was only 14. He was about a year old when he came home from the kill shelter. He’d come into the shelter as a stray. Thirteen and a half years wasn’t nearly long enough to love him and share life with him. I doubt a hundred years would have been enough time.

We went through so much together, he and I. There’d been times of fun and laughter. There’d been times of great grief. He never left my side. Even as his body failed, he always found a way to lay beneath my desk or follow me outside.

As I write this, he’s been gone for three days. I know that he’s happy. He’s no longer in pain. He’s running around in heaven and having the best time. I believe with all my heart that he’ll be there when I arrive one day.

God promises that He will strengthen me and never leave my side. God promises that I don’t have to do this alone. I cling to that now. The ache in my shattered heart runs deep. Tears flow freely. Memories assault my every moment. I miss him and selfishly want him back.

To some people, he was just a dog. To me, he was my baby, my family, a vital part of my life. Depression assaults my mind and I struggle to fight it back. Perhaps depression is simply a place for my grief to go until I can find a way to accept this hard goodbye.

I will survive. I always do. But this is going to take a while. It might even take me until the day I die and join him in heaven.