Early mornings become a ritual of actions. You get up. Go to the bathroom. Hopefully after you get out of bed. Turn off the alarm. And then it’s time to take out the dogs. This morning was no different.  Except it meant taking out one dog instead of two. 

Our older Rottie girl Sarah left us yesterday. Her almost 13 years of life ran out of time. Actually her body ran out of time. She left peacefully with all of us, including her furry brother Mac, at her side. Touching her. Kissing her. Sending her off over the Rainbow Bridge to her furry  brothers and sisters. She must have been so excited to see them that her feet were running as she slipped into rest. She was ready to get out of that broken body even if we were not ready to let her go. You never are. It’s never enough time. 

Laying on the floor with her as she relaxed before her journey I leaned close to kiss her on her face and she laid her chin in my hand one last time. It was if she was telling me it’s okay. Thank you for a good life with lots of love, petting, kissing and treats. And then she left. Running pain free with Bo and Judah who were waiting for her. We think she saw them and her feet were running before she was was free to join them. They introduced her to the family of furry kids, dogs and cats, who all have a piece of our heart. Eleven others in total. She probably got so excited that she started to bark as she was prone to do when excited. Bo taught her that. She carried on his tradition with zeal and fervor. 

It will be quieter now. No barking. No thumping of her tail when she got excited. And boy did it thump. It was a power tail wag. She would see you coming and you would get that tail wag. It didn’t matter if she had just seen you a short time earlier to her it was a new moment for her and the tail wagged. It always brought a smile to my face and a loving pat on her face.  I would know when my wife Deb was up as Sarah’s tail would wag against the nearest object in an excited good morning greeting. Over the last two days the tail wags became less and less. Sometimes not at all. Silence was setting in. And now that tail is silent. And yet, as I write this I can hear it in my heart. I will smile every time I do and for a while shed a tear. Okay, a lot of tears. There was a lot of tail wagging. A lot of loving memories. And I believe that someday I will see that tail wag again. What sight that will be be. 

Richard J Grund