Having a pet is one of the most exciting string of experiences in a person’s life. So much, in fact, that everyone forgets that inevitably, you will outlive your cat or dog. I know we have, and with my eldest dog nearing the end of his life, I wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude, and I know, most people would write this off as weird because I’m writing a letter to my dog. But who cares? Let’s begin.
When we first got you, I initially was not there for your homecoming, and I remember it, probably because it was your most adorable moment, you started yipping because I wasn’t in the group of people you first met. We changed your name from Little Brown Puppy, which I don’t understand why your previous owner had named you that, but I guess it’s something akin to "The Simpsons" Santa’s Little Helper deal. From then on, you quickly grew used to our family, you even selected my youngest sister to be your human, I was so jealous when that happened, because I really wanted to be the one you picked. Things went pretty smooth for a while after that, everyone was happy.
Then came the inevitable separation of my parents, but that’s a story for another time. We had packed up and moved house pretty fast, and in our final run to come back and bring you with us, we were barred by my father who had refused to let us have you. My sister was broken, I can remember her crying, it broke my heart, and I’m sure it affected you. My brother would visit every so often, he was the only one who could stomach being with that man, and he would give us reports every so often. Your demeanor had changed, no longer were you the nice little puppy who loved people and everything else under the sun. You were depressed, and angry, I can remember my brother mentioning how you had snapped at another dog, something you previously would’ve never done. We knew that by any means, we had to bring you home to us.
By some twist of fate, my father had gone on a trip, and had “asked” my mom to watch you, which she agreed to in a heartbeat. Finally, you had returned to us, whether my father knew what he was doing or not, I’ll never know. I do know that the moment you stepped into our new home, you had gone right back to the sweet little brown puppy we knew and loved. Our home was complete again.
Now, as I sit here and watch as you deteriorate, my heart breaks. You’re not as chipper as you used to be, and I know you’re in pain by the looks you give us, but even still, you try to be the young pup you once were. I know your time here is nearing its end, and I just wanted to take this moment to let you know that we’ll be OK, it’ll suck, there’s no mistaking that, but you can’t feel bad. You just got the short end of the stick is all, we’ll always love you, and we’ll miss you.
Goodbye, Trigger.
