I said goodbye to an old friend yesterday. We made the difficult decision to put down our Jack Russell terrier, Makena. She was fifteen years old and suffering from kidney failure. She went to sleep peacefully in my arms and died painlessly with her head in my hands. We buried her close by under an old oak tree.
In her prime she was twelve pounds of spring-loaded muscle. She was our little cartoon dog. Even though she was small, she was as tough as nails and had an attitude that was ten feet tall. She was so tenacious, I thought perhaps she might outlive us all by an act of sheer will and determination. Her years caught up with her in the end, but she went out with grace, which is what I wanted for her.
Goodbye, little dog. I will miss your little kisses, but not your bad breath.