This morning, I held my nearly 16-year-old beagle mix in my arms as the veterinarian put him to sleep. I felt his heart beating against my thigh, until it wasn’t. His weak gasps for air stopped. His dementia- and arthritis-driven yelps were no more. The silence was a comforting pillow atop a bed of heart-piercing nails.
Floyd never once went to bed hungry or cold, and he got a hug every single day of his life.
We should all be so lucky and so loved.