And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
I paid a professional to murder my heart on four legs.
I understand they do not call it murder at the vet clinic. I understand that it isn't murder. I did what was best. The humane thing to do. I get it but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what to wear to a killing.
I mean should I wear a poncho whilst chewing tobacco à la Clint Eastwood in one of those western movies? Or maybe a black veil and giant crucifix since the funeral and viewing of the body happens straight after? If only I spoke Italian, I would wail my sorrow loudly to make sure the Italian deity could hear me and let me have a place in the Italian heaven, because pasta.
Now dear readers you are wondering if I have finally gone off the deep end. Is she that callous to make light of such a sad and horrible time? Did she not love that poor soul?
The answer is whatever you want it to be get your own blog. Wait that was rude...You see Humphrey was (I just typed the word 'was' and may have vomited) a present moment kind of gentleman with a personality the size of which this earth could not contain. He was mine, all mine and he pushed that button in me - think comédie noire - because he knew I would go all out with it and he accepted me as is.
During the month leading up to the deed:
"Wait, you are euthanizing me??? I knew it! It was Papa's idea wasn't it? He just wants to eat my cheese! I never trusted him. He's shifty."
"Really? You are still brushing my teeth? I will be dead six feet under and you will dig me up to brush my teeth woman."
"Gimme some cheese. What? There in none left? I have two feet in the grave woman, get in that magic mobile of yours and get some."
"Are you sure you can handle these two dumbasses after I am gone?"
"Am I going to have to live 15.5 more years? Because these two need supervision."
And so it went. Then one day came where there was none left.
He went out like a boss.
He ate a $16 T-bone steak for breakfast, then he wanted to be with the Mute Deer Goat, the Siamese, JD and I in the bedroom so we all piled into bed together. He had a nice deep sleep on a full belly. He got up for lunch treats. We all piled into the car. All canines and humans. We took him to a park from his youth and let him off leash - illegally because that's how he rolled.
He was in the distance, he toodled far away on his old man legs, he looked over at me and I saw that old spark and knew exactly what he was about to do. As I stood there with tears streaming down my face I whispered the words 'go Humphrey go.' He took off. He was playing our old catch me game. Only in my mind's eye I saw the powerful prey driven beast he once was but he was glorious nonetheless.
He was grinning from ear to ear, trotting, trying to escape me and I played along walking behind him. He would look back, see me approaching and make his skinny little legs go faster with a 'oh no' look in his eyes.
Like a boss I tell you.
When it came time at the clinic, he was calm and with his pack, his family. I can take comfort in that. I did right by him.
Now a wall of pain has descended onto me like no other I have felt before. Humphrey loved me with all that he was. He would have dragged himself to the ends of the earth to stay with me. The people closest to me and who knew him well said it was the only reason he was still alive when all indications said he shouldn't be.
I held him while he left this world. I sang him his song. I thanked him for all he had given me. I laid my body down next to him as I laid him to rest.
"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."
Lennon/McCartney
I understand they do not call it murder at the vet clinic. I understand that it isn't murder. I did what was best. The humane thing to do. I get it but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what to wear to a killing.
I mean should I wear a poncho whilst chewing tobacco à la Clint Eastwood in one of those western movies? Or maybe a black veil and giant crucifix since the funeral and viewing of the body happens straight after? If only I spoke Italian, I would wail my sorrow loudly to make sure the Italian deity could hear me and let me have a place in the Italian heaven, because pasta.
Now dear readers you are wondering if I have finally gone off the deep end. Is she that callous to make light of such a sad and horrible time? Did she not love that poor soul?
The answer is whatever you want it to be get your own blog. Wait that was rude...You see Humphrey was (I just typed the word 'was' and may have vomited) a present moment kind of gentleman with a personality the size of which this earth could not contain. He was mine, all mine and he pushed that button in me - think comédie noire - because he knew I would go all out with it and he accepted me as is.
During the month leading up to the deed:
"Wait, you are euthanizing me??? I knew it! It was Papa's idea wasn't it? He just wants to eat my cheese! I never trusted him. He's shifty."
"Really? You are still brushing my teeth? I will be dead six feet under and you will dig me up to brush my teeth woman."
"Gimme some cheese. What? There in none left? I have two feet in the grave woman, get in that magic mobile of yours and get some."
"Are you sure you can handle these two dumbasses after I am gone?"
"Am I going to have to live 15.5 more years? Because these two need supervision."
And so it went. Then one day came where there was none left.
He went out like a boss.
He ate a $16 T-bone steak for breakfast, then he wanted to be with the Mute Deer Goat, the Siamese, JD and I in the bedroom so we all piled into bed together. He had a nice deep sleep on a full belly. He got up for lunch treats. We all piled into the car. All canines and humans. We took him to a park from his youth and let him off leash - illegally because that's how he rolled.
He was in the distance, he toodled far away on his old man legs, he looked over at me and I saw that old spark and knew exactly what he was about to do. As I stood there with tears streaming down my face I whispered the words 'go Humphrey go.' He took off. He was playing our old catch me game. Only in my mind's eye I saw the powerful prey driven beast he once was but he was glorious nonetheless.
He was grinning from ear to ear, trotting, trying to escape me and I played along walking behind him. He would look back, see me approaching and make his skinny little legs go faster with a 'oh no' look in his eyes.
Like a boss I tell you.
When it came time at the clinic, he was calm and with his pack, his family. I can take comfort in that. I did right by him.
Now a wall of pain has descended onto me like no other I have felt before. Humphrey loved me with all that he was. He would have dragged himself to the ends of the earth to stay with me. The people closest to me and who knew him well said it was the only reason he was still alive when all indications said he shouldn't be.
I held him while he left this world. I sang him his song. I thanked him for all he had given me. I laid my body down next to him as I laid him to rest.
"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."
Lennon/McCartney
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Windward Diamant De Baccarat
Humphrey
May 4th 2002 - August 7th 2017
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