It’s been hard week.
Smokey’s health took a drastic turn downwards this last week and Thursday we made the difficult decision to let him go.
He’s been fighting a thyroid condition for at least a year, and this summer’s flea season reduced him to just over five pounds. He wasn’t going to gain that weight back.
He had a bad tooth that turned to an infection and an abscess that took over the right side of his face and burst open. This was our first real sign something was wrong.
We took him to the vet knowing this was a possibility. He’s an old man, after all, somewhere between 16 and 20.
And the vet confirmed the worst: anything we could do would only treat symptoms. His overall condition would never improve and he’d simply continue to decline and waste away.
So we let him go while he still had dignity. I held him the whole time and he only went on his own terms – he vet was shocked how long it took.
But he went peacefully as I held him in my arms, telling him how much we loved him and humming Rhapsody in Blue.
This is how I’ll remember him:
I don’t want to talk anymore, but I sure could use someone to talk to me.
What’s been going on with you?
Even at the end everything was on his terms.
Goodbye, best friend. You’re still the best. You lived half your life with us, and those 9 years with you were too short.