All Dogs Go to Heaven

It's with the heaviest of hearts that we say goodbye to the kindest of souls, and a member of our family, our old dog and faithful friend,Vegas. It was so hard to watch him waste away in his final weeks and terribly painful to make the ultimate decision to put him to sleep. The whole world seems strange without him.

Vegas was Tim's big, sweet, loyal dog for over 13 years and the kids' and mine for over 8. He loved his family, playing at the beach, and eating food scraps that I snuck to him after dinner. He was the friendly neighborhood greeter, the gracious foot warmer, and my noble constant shadow; there's nobody who could escort me around a coffee table the way that he could. He was patient: even if Tim wanted to dance with him, even if I grumbled about his bad breath, even if our spirited wiener dog wanted to roughhouse well after Vegas was too old for such nonsense. He was good-natured and devoted and beautiful to his dying breath.  We are grieving our big, lovable, doe-eyed dog; he was the best dog a family could ask for, and I'm glad he knew it.

As I write this, I notice the tumbles of fir hiding under the kitchen table that I once was obsessively quick to vacuum. Now, I'm just letting them sit a little longer, juuuuust a little bit longer, not quite ready to let it all go. I'm trying to remember that Vegas is running his big, dopey, figure-eights on a beach somewhere in the sky, and I know that once my heart's not so heavy, that thought will make me smile.