My heart aches...

I've been avoiding writing this post, but know that I have to.  I also know that I need to keep it short so that I don't turn into a teary mess.

My sweet sweet running partner Nick crossed the Rainbow Bridge on 28 August.  I'm not sure that I've ever had to make a harder decision in my life, but Stuart and I realized that it was time. 

It's a long story, but he had psychologically snapped.  Prozac wasn't helping.  He was living unhappy, with his tail beneath his legs and becoming aggressive towards Stuart and the other dogs.  He loved Riley and me, but wasn't able to adjust to being yet another rung lower on the dominance pole once she was born.  Multiple consultations with the vets, and a visit with the behaviorist, and the consensus was that he was miserable.  Normally, when you think about "quality of life" in determining when your four-footed friend is ready for heaven (and I do believe with all my heart that our pets go to heaven), you think about physical infirmities.  Like the others, he was aging and starting to slow down.  His last run with me was last autumn, and his last long walk this spring left him limping for days.  But, he was basically physicially healthy.  Mentally and emotionally though, he was beyond redemption in terms of his happiness and life's balance.

We've cried so much since then.  The house is so much quieter -- it's really highlighted how much of the energy and noise emanated from that one sweet creature.  We had always joked that of all the dogs, Nick would live forever since he was too stupid to know how to grow old.  Never did we imagine that we'd reach this day.

Running without that goofy dog alongside wagging his tail, looking up for approval, doing his run-a-poops, and gratefully sharing my water bottle won't ever be the same.