rest in peace

It's over. My big, bad, wolf dog died between 1:00 a.m. and 2:00 a.m. The children don't know yet. I never want to go through something like this again. My sorrow is greater than I'm willing to admit to myself.

I hated this. I've hated it since his hips weakened. It just doesn't seem right for such an agile and strong creature to be so struck down by age.

He was still warm. His piss was warm, but there was no life. I saw that he wasn't breathing, but when I pressed on his chest I could have sworn I felt a heartbeat. What I felt was the pulse in my fingers.

He's gone; the most amazing dog I've ever known, the only one to be my companion and protector. He was 14 years and nine months old. Tomorrow, I'll dig the hole and bury him in his favorite spot in the yard.

This is surreal. I'm going to miss him so much.