My wonderful border collie, Sox, is dying. She's deteriorating every day, but I haven't reached that horrendous edge where having her here is harder than her being gone. It's killing me that I have the power to hold her life in my hands. That one decision from me makes her gone from us forever.
She's the first dog that I've had in my adult life. And the stories I could tell you about how amazing she is will have to wait until the overwhelming ache subsides when I think of her, healthy and out of pain.
So this is where I am, and I wish I weren't. But doesn't everyone when this point comes?
From the pit (of despair)
4 hours ago