News Hound

 Yesterday morning, my wife and I said goodbye to our beloved Golden Retriever, Monte. Allowing her to die wasn't easy, but it was right.

Monte was 11. She was an absolute joy, from the day we first brought her to our new home until the moment she fell asleep forever, my wife cradling her face as my sister-in-law and I gently stroked her.

Writing this is difficult. Our grief is still new, our sadness still too fresh. We cried yesterday, cried today and will probably cry tomorrow. But I wanted to share my love for Monte because, as anyone who owns a dog knows, she was more than just a pet. She was our family.

Monte's heart was bad, although this was a condition we discovered only recently. Fluid had begun to build around it, preventing it from expanding. She couldn't breathe normally, and we were told by our vet to cut short her daily walks. Keep her indoors, let her rest and keep an eye on her.

But Monte lived for her daily walks, rain or shine. She loved the beach and visiting a retirement home in our neighborhood where the residents gave her treats and petted her. I've made many friends on our walks, but they were always people Monte introduced me to with her wagging tail and welcoming nature. She made a new friend almost every day, and I could hear her saying, "Hi. My name is Monte and this is my dad. We're your new friends."

I couldn't deny Monte her walks. I took her around the block the first day our vet told me that I should keep them short. But I finally decided that no matter how long she lived, I would treat her as I always did. After a few days, we made our walks longer and longer. I could see the joy in her face.

But her condition finally began to worsen. She didn't sleep much on Tuesday night, and when I woke up yesterday morning, she was panting heavily and appeared agitated and confused. She refused food and couldn't find a comfortable place to lie down. My wife and I had decided that if she seemed in any sort of discomfort, we wouldn't prolong her life just to satisfy our need to keep her alive.

We took her to the vet and said our goodbyes. She seemed to know what was happening but was comforted by the fact that the people she loved were near her. We cooed in her ear, stroked her long blond coat and told her how much we loved her.

"It's ironic," my wife said. "Her heart was the biggest part of her, but it's the thing that finally failed her."

We still feel her presence. Thankfully, we have our three Dachshunds and cat, who need our love just as much as Monte did. And they love us back, perhaps knowing we feel a void from our loss.

But we still miss her.