My sister called me today. Her lovely friend, a dog that has been a companion for ten years is diagnosed with lung cancer. Does she let him go? Does she ask him to fight with chemo?
The answer is the same – it’s either a month or so or six months until the end, but there will be an end. How do we make this decision?
I am laying in bed at 4 a.m., thinking of my sister, her pending decision and all the lovely creatures that I have had the privilege to live with over the years. I don’t know how we find the strength to enjoy them, when we know they will be gone all too soon.
When you are laying flat in bed, the small tears that creep out of the corners of your eyes and run down your cheek end up in your ears.
Tears in your ears.