No doggie heaven

I just returned from watching an amazing dog die. He was so sick that he could barely walk, but all his wits were about him, so he tried to let me know that he was happy to see me earlier in the afternoon. It was hard to let him go, and as he died, I felt myself wishing that there was a doggie heaven where he would end up chasing butterflies and balls, but even as I wished for that, I knew that it was just a silly human desire to not let go of one that we love.

All we really have is here, and while Togee was here, I loved him and took the best care I could of him. While he was mine, I gave him a good life, and he returned my affection. Any time I want, I can pull up a memory of me dodging to the left, and Togee running circles around me, or of him bouncing up, wide awake at 4:30 a.m., saying "Let's go for a walk!" and me reluctantly crawling out of bed, putting on his leash, and getting home by dawn. Or I can remember the time he said hello to me for almost 20 minutes because he was so happy to see me. Or the time his owner first put doggie booties on him and he tried to buck them off. Or saying goodbye to him this afternoon.

I have many memories of this wonderful dog.

Now is all we have.