The last of our three terriers passed away this afternoon, at the age of thirteen years and five months precisely. Though he was a wee little dog, he had a big dog’s spirit, and a wonderful soul. We’ve known for a few weeks he likely wouldn’t see another summer, and when he suddenly took a turn for the worse yesterday afternoon, we knew he wouldn’t see Christmas either. Yet we hoped it was just a passing ailment. It wasn’t. Shortly after two this afternoon, I let him out not knowing it would be the last time. He basked in the sun for a few minutes, did his business, then came back into the house. I picked him up to hold him and felt him die in my arms, just like that.
As deaths go, his was a quick and painless one, and it was natural rather than a result of euthanasia like our older dogs. And both of us were there with him at the end. We will miss and mourn our little friend, our constant companion for the last thirteen years, but to paraphrase George S. Patton, we will be thankful that he lived. However, for the first time in over twenty years, we won’t be sharing our home with at least one dog and that will take a little getting used to.
7 May 2007 – 7 October 2020
He was a wonderful dog.