This past June 18 we had to bury our precious little Max. He fought a good fight but in the end he was just too weak to carry on. The decision to end it was mine and Gail's but he told us with his eyes he was ready. As I carried his lifeless body from the vet's office, his little head and nose were exposed and I held him close and kissed him over and over. I have never had a more devastating emotional experience than this. Along with the last few days of his existence, watching him deteriorate so quickly, was just about more than we could bear. We buried him in the back yard near our pine tree, a place where he loved to chase Mr. Lizard. He rests now, wrapped in his favorite blanket and finally has peace. I can't believe he is gone. He only lived with us for four and one-half years and we wanted more.
Now the healing begins. The days seem endless. Gail and I both try to fill the voids of silence with meaningless conversation, sometimes rattling on and on about insignificant things. We do this so we will not have to endure to the quietness. The silence, please God, not the silence. For the silence opens that portal that allows those bittersweet memories to come flooding back; the softness of his muzzle...an ear folded back the wrong way...the kisses, always given freely...bounding to the back yard to harrass Mr. Lizard or Mr. Squirrel...rolling in the soft grass...walks to the lake and playing "swizzle," on the boat docks...doing the "Delbert," on the bed...the sparkle in his eyes and the vibrating tail when Gail and I arrived home from work...singing the "squeak, squeak," song and playing loop, loop...the excitement of raising the guest room windows...the playful nipping at our hands for a cookie and the challenge to me to try and take it away...feeding the birds with Gail...running laps throuth the house and over the furniture...lapping the "zert," from my bowl...laying on Gail's lap when he needed comfort and with me in my chair while watching TV. All these precious memories. With the silence and the memories come the tears. Please God, not the silence.
We busy ourselves with work around the house, trying to keep our minds occupied. Our grief is great. We will mourn him forever. Today we will go into town to buy some perennial plants to celebrate his grave. He was a source of great joy to us. We will always miss him.