This has been a very emotional day. We had to put down our beloved dog, Greta, who was 10 1/2 years old and had become very ill very quickly. After a weekend that included a midnight run to an emergency animal clinic and a rapid deterioration of the lovable chow-shepherd who was still often mistaken for a puppy despite her advanced years, today’s news was not a surprise. But that doesn’t make it any easier, does it?
The kids have been beside themselves with grief all day. They left for school this morning, running to catch the bus with tears streaming down their faces because they had just said good-bye to their dog, something we suggested they do “just in case” because we did not know how the vet visit would unfold. Chiara said good-bye and patted Greta’s head before heading off to her nap. When she awoke, the first thing she said was, “Is Greta gone?” The afternoon has been pretty rough — lots of tears but also lots of reminiscing about our dog, who was very gentle, very friendly, and very patient with children. Everybody loved Greta.
Noah is convinced that there must be dogs in heaven because paradise wouldn’t be paradise if something you loved wasn’t there. He’s got a good point. So we say good-bye to Greta, who sometimes drove us crazy with her barking at the back door but who never failed to be loyal and protective and everything a good dog should be.
