He lifted his head weakly and looked back at me. I petted his big black nose and kissed it. He knew and I knew that this was the last time I’d see him alive. Saying goodbye is hard. Knowing you are saying goodbye for the last time is excruciating. A few weeks ago, I said goodbye to my friend of almost 16 years, our family dog. He passed away Friday night.
In January, my dad said Domino wouldn’t make it past the next 2 months. I was 15 years old when my mom brought home a purebred Dalmatian that my dad named, “Domino,” because, well, he looks like a domino. Domino was my parent’s third child. He slept in their bed, ate leftovers from our restaurant, has fresh bread for breakfast and has health insurance. (We never had health insurance when we were kids.) My mom is heartbroken.
I wrote most of this post early January knowing that when the time came I would be unable to do it. When I wrote this at my parent’s house, January 2nd, Domino was plodding through the house with his jangling collar, rubbing his nose all around our carpet and barking so someone will cover him in his blanket and I went through a box of tissues. He was a good dog and a good friend. I’ll miss him.