Seems like a trend… Today, I’m writing AGAIN about death and sadness.
Later today, my family’s pet, Molly, going to be put down.
She is probably 15 years old, and isn’t eating and has lost control of her legs. I suggested it a year ago, when she started to go downhill, but I’m still sad that it’s happening. I cannot go home to my parents’ to say goodbye, I have to work. I wish I could be there when it happens… let her know that she’s not alone and that I love her.
Molly is the first pet that I can really remember. She was there for me when I was lonely, kept my bed warm at night, kept me smiling. She is a liver spotted dalmatian - she’s the only one that I’ve ever seen. My great-grandmother had a red spotted one, but Molly’s brown spots were beautiful.
Since I went to college, Molly didn’t really seem like my dog. My little brother took her on, and cared for her. But over the years, Mom and Dad got other dogs (currently there are three in the house), and Molly’s spot in the family was shared. And Molly became grouchy in her old age. She simply wanted to lay on her bed and sleep, not be disturbed by the younger dogs.
As time went on, she became more tired, and had trouble with her back legs. They didn’t quite work like they were supposed to. But, with quiet dignity she carried on.
However, in the past couple of years, Molly had lost quite a bit of weight. When Mom called last night, she said that Molly’s spine was clearly visible, she had lost that much more.
I know this is the right decision, but it still hurts. I hope that my parents are okay today, and that Molly goes peacefully.
