Saturday, December 22, 2007

In Memoriam: Misty

When I was in kindergarten, my aunt saved a little black labrador puppy and gave her to my family and me--we named her Misty. Misty and I were inseperable for some time, both incredibly energetic. I used to make little books about Misty, the Wonder Dog. They were lacking in plot, but they more than made up for it in love. She was more than just another one of my friends. One day, I was curious about the variance in the life expectancy of different species, so I asked my stepmother how long she would live. She replied, "Misty will live to see you graduate high school." To a kindergartener, that's lifetimes away.

And here I am, lifetimes later. I graduated last year, and since then we've pretty much been counting down the days, not taking any more for granted. Even I've shown her the love I've always had for her even though I haven't shown it like I used to...
It finally happened while I was at work.  My parents called the vet to come to our house, Misty doesn't like traveling to the vet and we couldn't let those be her last moments.  My parents then took her to my grandparents' property in Leonard and buried her there facing towards the pond so that she'll always know which direction the water is in case she feels like playing in it—just like she loved to do before she started to hurt.  She was gone when I came home that night.  Though we lost someone very important to us, we know that she's gained something in return:  Peace.
Though we'll miss her, we take solace in the fact that she's not struggling anymore--she's no longer in pain. She's free again.

Misty the Wonder Dog, always our hero.

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