Everybody has heard of the 5 stages of grief, right? Sadness, denial, anger, bargaining, and acceptance. Well I seem to be experiencing the 5 stages of guilt. In some ways, I think end of life care is more difficult for animals than it is with humans, because they can’t communicate with you their feelings and wants, so the best you can do is guess. Did I do too little? Did I do too much? Was he sad when I left him alone at work? Did I make him sicker by feeding him chicken and rice sometimes instead of his special prescription dog food? Why did I cut his walks short to leave for work 10 minutes earlier? Was he scared when I brought him to the vet that last time?

I just keep replaying in my mind that last moment when I felt his head go limp in my hands, and wonder if the outcome would have been different if he had a choice. I can’t imagine what it is like not knowing that you are about to die, but being in a room full of people who do.

I guess I had always thought that when the time came for us to put Enzo down, he would be much much sicker, and that there would be no room for this tiny lingering doubt in my mind; no second guessing. My head knows that we made the right decision, (I think had we not taken him to the vet that morning, he likely would have been that sick within a day or two) but my heart aches every time I think about it.

I miss him.