He loved that pool.
Within minutes that first day we met in June, he had jumped in the pool. It was his instinct. Getting out was not. He needed lots of help that day. And he needed lots of help last night. That sweet pup, with a coat darker than the darkest night now spotty, grey and grizzled. In between the faint breaths and the shakes, you could still see that pup in his eyes. One look told his whole story, almost 13 years. But when I looked in those eyes I saw reflections of the guy with boundless energy. The hundred pound puppy. The guy capable of clumsily knocking you over at the front door but giving so much love to a tiny six pound baby boy.
He left surrounded by people that loved him. Two people that couldn't love each other. Differences cast aside for some small time bigger than us both. In his final hours we shared more respect and emotion than we had shown each other in the last 7 years. Dogs are a lot simpler than our human children, there was never any fighting over his best interests.
In some ways I said goodbye 2.5 years ago. I knew this day was going to come and I wasn't going to be equipped to deal with it. It made my decision then a little easier. On this day there was no decision to be made. Just an old friend telling us it was time. He was brave. He was always so brave.
We'd still see each other often. Every Tuesday. For a few moments. He'd run to greet me. Those greetings were few and far between the past few months. I wondered if he was gone. TJ said he was gone. And I didn't really want to know.
I know there are big swimming pools, endless streams and vast oceans in doggy heaven. Let this be the picture you are remembered by.
He loved that pool.