by Sandy Murray
Reginald was born in my home. This was his mothers first litter. She had no idea how to be a mother. She would not stay in her box and feed her babies. I used to sit with her so she could learn. Reginald was the smallest. He had a hard time nursing when I got her to feed. He got very sick and I took him to the Vet. They said I should supplament with formula, which I did. I used to rock him while I gave him his bottle. He loved it. We rocked right up to the day he went to sleep. He did well for 6 months. At 6 month he start to have seizures. We took him to the top Vet Hospital in New York on the advise of our family vet. They discovered he had Epilepsy. My heart was broken. He took anti-convulsants for 12 1/2 years. When he was 13, his liver stoped functioning. He was suffering, and I had to make a dicision. I wanted him with me, but, I couldn't expect to suffer just because I couldn't let go. I called the vet and told him I would bring Reginald in as soon as I dug his grave. My husband wanted to leave him and have him cremated in a group. I refused, I dug his grave. I went to the store and bought a white blanket with blue satin trim and a bear on in. My friend offered to dig the grave, but, I had to do it. I had to do all the last things that could be done for Reginald. I wraped him in his blanket and my husband and I took him to the vets. He was very listless. I went in and my husband stayed out in the waiting room. He said he could not watch. I held Reginald in my arms and the Doctor injected him. He just went to sleep. It was so peaceful. I know I did the right thing. I carried him to the car. I held him in my arms the whole way. I never took my eyes off from him. We drove to the grave sight in silence. I carried him across a creek to an island to his final resting place. I kissed him goodbye, laid him in his grave, said some prayers and asked God to take care of him. I knelt at his grave forever. My husband kept trying to get me to leave. I finally put his favorite ball with him, covered him with his blanket, and covered him with the dirt. I placed his cross at his head. I stood over his grave and could not leave. This is the second time I gave my baby to God. My first baby was my human son (Jamie). Jamie was 23 years old when he was murdered. I just stood at Reginald's grave and thought about how happy Jamie must be to have Reginald with him.