We put down our dog Kansas on Friday - my son is sad and bewildered and I am fighting a battle between my heart and my head. My heart wants to cry and feel guilty that I stood there and let them inject him, let them end his life while I sat by and stroked his head, murmuring 'Such a good dog' while he slumped, and snored, and was still, and my head is sending a fierce refrain, reminding me that he was ten years old, a severe case of hip dysplasia, getting so sore and crippled that he couldn't crouch to poop, and that it was best to take away all his pain.
The house is poorer without him here, and lonely.
Cass has decided that God put Kansas on a cloud, and blew him up to the moon, and he's there, watching over all of us. I like his version of Heaven.
As for me - I think I will be conflicted about this for a long time.
Poor doggie. Poor Kansas. I hope somewhere you are running free, barking at rabbits and sure that you have a soft rug to go home to. We'll miss you, big dog.
