This morning, I was so surprised to hear Maggie.

She barked. Not a bark without pain.

Are we cruel to prolong the inevitable?

When Michael and I came to her aide, she looked at us with big brown eyes.  Sad eyes.

If they could talk, they would say, “Why am I still laying here? I need to get up. I need food. I need water. I need to go out my doggy door, because that’s what I do.”

She even wagged her tale. How cruel is that?

Put that tale down, please.

I have this darn lump in my throat.  My faces feel contorted and my heart aches. I am helpless today, again.

I got a plate of water and dear, sweet Maggie, lapped it up. Michael soothed her little neck.

Big brown eyes. Sad eyes of trust, love and helplessness.

A decision has been made. One that many dog and cat owners have made. Today is her day. Not ours, but hers.

Candace described her own agony. Linda described her own agony. Meisha and Darby Rose had their day.

This stinks. She is teaching me something. How to live when you die.

I see her pink dog bowls. Water. Food. They are near my computer desk.

I’m so sad.

I can’t see my computer screen.