Open Letter to Mini, beloved dog.
Minion aka Mini was my soul pet. Lost too soon due to cancer. Making the choice to let him go was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. You think being in the veterinary tech field would make it easier, it does not. Pets are family, they take a piece of our hearts with them.
I saw an ad for border collie chow mix puppies. In memory of my childhood dog, I’ve always had a soft spot for border collie mixes. We had moved into our first home. It wasn’t complete without my own dog. We drove an hour or so and came to a little farm. Your mom and dad were mixed breeds themselves. Your dad a chow mix, silly fluffy guy. Your mom kind of snippy thing, with a bit of an attitude. I played with all the puppies and just couldn’t decided. I needed to use the restroom and said “if this one is still here when I come back, I’ll take him.” I walked out the door to see you sitting on the side walk looking up at me. Your brothers and sisters had all gone to their bed in the barn, but here you were. I still don’t know to this day, if Luke made you stay. I don’t think I’ll ever really want to know.
We took you home and you were soo needy. You wanted no part of sleeping in a kennel. You kept the whole household awake until we let you sleep in bed with us. We bonded instantly and you, unfortunately, carried my anxiety too. You chewed up the strangest things, from cell phones to alarms clocks and everything in-between. I can’t count how many phone chargers we went through, but you were a people pleaser. If I asked something of you, you did everything in your power to make me proud. You could jump onto a 4 foot counters in a single leap. I could get you to jump through hula hoops and on to chairs. Just a regular performance pup. One of the things I loved most was how dedicated you were to us, but you could still think for yourself. I trusted your judgment of people more than my own. Friendly, but you would protect us.
When I became pregnant I wasn’t sure how you’d handle it. You did lift your leg on the baby crib. Maybe, some rebellion to not being the baby anymore. You also did jump on her accidently, when she was very small. There was some days I thought about getting you a new home. Somewhere you could get the attention you deserved in all the craziness that was happening. I’m glad we didn’t. Selene and you have grown together and bonded. When she wakes up your the only dog that runs in there with a waggy tail to greet her. You love to follow along with whatever adventure she’s on. I think “mini” was one of her first words.
I’ve watched your dark slate face go white and see the age in you, but you’re still so young. This is all too soon. I wanted more time with you. You’ve slowed more and more. You’ve stop eating. I cry in front of your food dish and you lick my tears away. You will still chase a ball, you’d play fetch until you drop dead, but the sparkle in your eye is dim. I can feel it getting near. I wonder will I ever find one like you, again? Then I wonder would I even want to. I wonder how quite this house will be with out your whines of excitement when someone knocks on the door. I wonder where I’ll turn, when sometimes you just need a fuzzy friend. That licks your tears away and gives you a paw. That sits on your foot to let you know they’re there. That just gets you, in some unspoken magical language.
Now, it’s my turn to listen to you. I’m waiting for you to tell me when. I know your nature is to make me happy, so you’ll hang on far longer then you should. I hope you know I don’t want you in pain and it’s ok to go, that I’m sure we’ll meet again.
