I knew last night that when we took Meshika to the vet’s today that she would not be coming home with us. Her last act—the last act of a dog who lived for nothing but to please me—was to lick my face to comfort me because she knew I was upset about something. Even though I know it was the right thing to do, it still feels like a betrayal. Last night she had been in some pain but was obviously feeling much better this morning, and she ran happily to join Carol and me to go for a ride in the car. She was eleven last December, not that old, but I hope I can say that I gave her as good as life as I could.

Driving back home, the empty space in the back of the car was palpable, and when I opened the door of the house, there was no one to greet us. There will not be again for some time.

She was born on the Winter Solstice of the year 2000. She made it to the Vernal Equinox 2012.

“Perhaps the greatest cruelty of being human is that we outlive our pets, who can be our dearest friends.” —K. R. Kelly