Saying Goodbye

By Terri Estes

The signs were there. The weight loss, the lack of appetite, the muscle wasting and the occasional limp. And then for days, she would rally. Her appetite would return, and she would once again chase squirrels in the yard, and I would fall into a false sense of security, thinking all was well, but knowing deep inside, that all was not well at all.

Saying goodbye to a pet is never easy. The vet said, “just keep her comfortable.” Well, she has been comfortable all her life. She has always had lots of love, plenty of food and a comfy couch to lay on. Now, she needed more, but what? We can’t turn back the clock. The quote “dogs’ lives are too short, their only fault, really,” hits home. Extra hugs and pats, morsels of steak if she will eat it, but nothing will stop the inevitable.

I have shared my life with many dogs and all of them have been wonderful, loving companions and important members of my family. Every time it was time to say goodbye, it was never easy, and a little piece of my heart went with them. Some took bigger pieces with them than others, and this last one took a really big chunk.

It isn’t because she was the best, most obedient dog, or that we loved her the most. I think, it might be because she was such a big personality and loved being involved in everything we did as a family. She was always front and center, ready to take part in whatever activity was planned. She just wanted to be with us, and her tail was always wagging. That tail was like a whip, and sometimes she would wag it so hard that the tip of it would start bleeding, leaving streaks of blood on the walls. Even as she began to fail, and her body quit working, her tail never stopped wagging.

Her enthusiasm for life was contagious and she was always up for an adventure. She was fearless, yet friendly, and never met a dog or person that she didn’t like. And let me tell you, that dog could get into mischief! Any food left on the counter was fair game and any stuffed animal left within reach would soon be unstuffed. But she was also sweet and cuddly, if you could call it that. You see, she was a greyhound. A very tall, very thin, bony greyhound. She loved to jump on your lap and cuddle, but because she was so big and thin, there was no padding between you and her bony elbows. It wasn’t like snuggling with a golden retriever and sometimes those bony prominences of hers would dig into you and they were kind of painful. But that girl would hop on the couch and squeeze in between everyone and just watch TV like the rest of us.

Goodbye, my sweet Clover. You have brought us so much laughter and entertainment over the last 12 years. You were one of a kind. You were so generous with your unwavering and unconditional love, and you have left a void in our hearts and home. You will be missed beyond words.