Even when it's the "right" thing to do, it's never easy. And when the choice, and the power to implement the choice, is in your hands, it only gets harder not to second guess yourself.
I was a vet tech on weekends for several years. My very first day, we had a family come in with their old bassett hound to have her put to sleep. The two little girls in the family, ages 10 and 7, laid on a blanket in the exam room with the bassett as the vet gave a sedative first, and then the lethal injection. I could hear the older girl whispering to her canine friend: "Thank you for all the nights you spent guarding our beds." "Thank you for all the days you played in the fields of with us." "Thank you for all the licks and snuggles."
I was trying hard not to bawl my eyes out, but you could just feel the love in the room. Your introduction and remembrance of Mocha reminded me of that bassett, Daisy, and her girls.
In any case, I occasionally write memorial poems, some for humans, some for hounds. People over on the Circle of Grey list have occasionally received poems from me, if I am inspired/moved/creatively able (I haven't written many poems for a long time now), but I haven't been on GreyTalk long enough to be comfortable posting poems. Well, here you go: this is an original, and just for Mocha.
Sirius Racer
(for Mocha, 10/25/2005)
Out there, somewhere,
The dog star shines, beacon and guide.
In the pale light, she glimmers,
Her sleek hide shines.
You look out, despite pain,
Through panes fogged by tears,
Wishing she was still yours,
Wishing the years were dust,
The grief, like ashes in your mouth
After her fire burns out.
Out there, somewhere,
She's barking at the moon
As it races along its arc,
From dusk till dawn
She's drowning out the dark
With her immortal grace.
You look out, watching frost form:
When sleep comes, dreams wake you,
Shake you with a torrent of tears,
Break you with the memory
Of her face.
Out there, somewhere,
She's running far beyond
Free from the bonds of aching bones,
But turning her head, she flares
A flicker in the twilight sky.
She turns her head and stares,
Back toward you.
Her shadow brushes your legs,
Fans the breeze at your side.
Tonight, the lure of the chase leads her
Into the skies: upward, forward,
Higher and higher.
But her memory lies, obedient,
At your feet.
© 2005 m.e. holderbaum
-- Mere on Cape Cod
