I can't handle this

Today, I said goodbye to my dog, Daisy.

Dais AKA The Poodle is 13+ years old, and she's been sliding rapidly downhill for the past few months. She's so thin and ill, it breaks my heart to see her. We would have taken her to the vet today, to put her out of her misery, but it's rained a whole bunch this week, and we couldn't bury her. We've her casket ready. My cousin made it on Monday.

I just sat with her in the garage, weeping over her shivering body, placing an old flannel shirt beneath her head to comfort her. I told her that Duke, our late, lamented marmie, was waiting for her at the Rainbow Bridge, and that we'd be along many years from now when they were both rested and strong. That we'd be looking for them.

I told her I wanted her to go to sleep, and not wake up. That I loved her. That I wanted her to be healthy again. To be whole again. To be able to run and play and swim and shake her wet self onto a human again.

I think she understood me, because she breathed deeply and fell asleep, not aware that her transition into another world was eased from the tears of a human that loved her. That loves her enough to tell her to let go.

You are a Good Dog, Daisy.