Saying Goodbye To Sally

I've never been particularly good at saying goodbye. Some can sweep emotions under an old rug and quickly move on. While others - like me - wallow a bit. I hold on to old mementos and photos like sacred pieces of art. I've kept every love letter anyone has ever given me. And I still feel weepy when I'm reminded of the goodbyes I had to make when we moved. But saying goodbye to our beloved dog Sally is by far the most difficult. She's the dog I've had for the last 13 years, and our plan to put her down this Friday was quite unexpected.

What no one tells you when you plan to put a dog down is all the little goodbyes that are made. At first I didn't think there'd be many. It's been a few years since we've taken Sally on camping trips, or on long hikes through the desert, or just pal-ing around with me on errands. She's gotten too old for all that. The little goodbyes started when I realized there will be no early morning walks before the baby wakes. "Goodbye," I whispered. And no one will be peacefully sleeping at my feet. "Goodbye," I heard myself say. I also said goodbye to all the unusual places you find yourself with a dog: goodbye to walking around the block under the stars, and laying down in the closet (her favorite place to be rubbed). Goodbye to silly things I never thought I'd miss, hearing her bark when the doorbell rings, stocking up on doggy skin care creams, and letting Little Butterfly pick out a yummy treat for her at the store.

I know the hardest goodbye will be on Friday when I say goodbye one last time. I'll feel heartbroken. But aren't I lucky that I've had such a wonderful friend the last 13 years to be heartbroken about?