What can you say about a goofy-looking dog who has been a part of your life for twelve years, who has never been sick, hardly ever been a pain in the butt, who has loved you no matter how grouchy you've been, and who has never asked anything more of you than an occasional biscuit and a scratch under the chin?
And now he is telling you that he is old, and ready to go?
Well, you think back to that line in Charlotte's Web, the one that your seven-year-old son once told you solemnly was the saddest line he had ever read. No one was with her when she died.
And so I am sitting here with my dog and telling him it's okay, and that we understand, and that we'll stay with him.
But I'm all choked up.
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