Ellie breathes heavily as I cradle her, her lovely green eyes closed.
We’re on a bench at the back of the large, crowded waiting room of the animal hospital. Technicians stand at the front and call animals’ names, inviting people and their pets into the exam rooms. For routine exams or emergencies or…for the reason we’ve come. After years of medications and fighting the odds, Ellie let me know that she’s had enough…that it’s time.
If only we were here for just an exam—the place where Ellie has been a patient since I adopted her sixteen years ago. She’d been rescued from a trashcan on a busy city sidewalk—a tiny grey and white kitten mewing for help.
I want to run, to take Ellie home. I want her scratchy kisses. Her play. The way she wakes me up before dawn because, “Hey! I need breakfast. Now!” How she curls up on my lap, when I work from home, and raises a sweet grey paw to pat my face during Zoom calls. I want her love.
But it’s time to let go.
People are crying. Some are staring at their cell phones. Most are stroking their anxious pets and talking to them.
“Ellie?” calls a technician at the front of the room.
I stand, holding Ellie close. I feel the pain in my heart and the pain around us. But more than that, I feel the love. The love of people for their pets. The miraculous love of pets for their people. The grace of the human-animal bond. I’m filled with gratitude and love for this wonderful being who’s shared her life as my buddy.
And with love, I carry Ellie towards to our goodbye.
One Response
Four footed fur ball
Giving pause for reflection –
The best therapy