We waved as the truck drove out of sight, bearing Ginger, our old, blind dog who has been in our family longer than our children. I shut my heart, refusing entrance to memories, or guilt for the moment. I only allow myself the small indulgence of recording this event as a small vent for my feelings.
On the humorous side, this morning, Briz announced in a cheerful voice, "kids, say goodbye to Ginj today. Today is her magical day. Today she becomes a spirit dog!" The children did not share his enthusiasm for Ginger's future progression and broke into tears. Tears on the sofa, tears in the corner, and tears in the back yard. After awhile, my all male husband had all he could take. "There is no reason to cry. Ginger is old, her body doesn't work any more. She'll be much happier." He looked at me incredulously wondering why his explanation wasn't working. I intervened with loves and a family prayer asking for peace and understanding that death is not the end. Then Briz offered Gingie some baloney.
Ginger has some amazing qualities: Unlimited patience and love were her best. I hope she is romping with Ming chasing rabbits and squirrels. I think this is about all I can take right now so I'll go think about laundry. One little ladybug just returned with her father and needs a snuggle.