My husband died of cancer eight years ago.  There’s not a day goes by that the memory of him saying, “Good-bye,” to our dog, Sammy, and our cat, Mikie, before leaving for the hospital on February 27th, 2013, doesn’t warm my heart with gratitude.  That memory came roaring back this past Monday morning as my neighbors helped me place Sammy in the back of my car to take him to the vet.  Sammy was in terrible pain, his eyes were crying as he looked at me, his breathing was labored, and he was moving with great difficulty.

Before I closed the door to my house, I looked back up the stairs and saw my husband and Sammy in a loving conversation.  Michael told my beloved dog to take care of me, to protect me, and to love me with all of his heart.  I saw tears in my husband’s eyes as he turned around to leave our home for what might be the last time.  According to our doctor, Michael had told her that he was ready to go if that’s what God wanted, but he would dearly miss the loves of his life: me, Sammy, and Mikie.  Walking down several steps, Michael paused in front of our cat, Mikie, took his face in his hands, and quietly told him to take care of his “mom.”  She would really need both of the boys’ love if he didn’t return home.  Michael was accepting and courageous about the possibility of his death as he was strong and loving about the loving home we had created and the people he truly loved.

Forward to the Monday morning before Thanksgiving and I began to count the many blessings that Sammy had given us through the years.  He was playful and never stopped wanting to chase his ball in the yard or in the house.  He wanted to be near us in every activity, even sleeping with us when he could push his way in between us.  He barked at everyone who came to the house until he grew to recognize a voice or a particular physique of a person.  He even became friends withe the UPS and Fed-Ex men as they gave him treats.  He loved chasing other animals, even putting his nose in the grass compost until he was bitten by a green garden snake.  He loved laying under the front Autumn Blaze Maple tree, watching the cars go by and checking out all of the kids playing in their yards.  He snuggled with us in front of the fireplace and kept his head on our laps for his daily loving.  When Michael passed, he became my protector and care taker.  All it would take is for me to look into his beautiful golden lab eyes, and any difficulty I was having slipped away.  In my eyes, there was no greater love than what he gave to both Michael and I.

Waiting for the sedative to take hold and then the final medication to stop his heart, I called him every favorite name I had called him for the past eleven years, ending with my sweet Angel Boy.  Through my tears, I sang, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” to him, as he loved listening to me play the piano just like his dad.  I said “The 23rd Psalm” as his eyes began to close and placed the sign of the cross on his forehead.  With one final movement of his eyes towards me, I said, “Go in peace my sweet Angel Boy and know that you were loved so much.  No beloved pet could have done more for me than you.  I know when you come before God, He will say, ‘Well done, thy good and faithful servant.'”

Now, the house is so quiet, and it’s hard to look at the place where he loved to sleep.  My cat, Mikie, walks around upstairs wondering where Sammy is, but I think he knew Sammy’s time was near.  We both miss him dearly, but we know he is finally at peace with no pain.  And as his dad, Michael, asked him to do, he took care of both of us.  Our lives were fuller with his love, and that made all the difference.  “Go now, my precious Angel Boy, and say, “Hi,” to your dad for me.”‘

Anna Hartt