Last night, the Hero MD™ and I said goodnight to our beloved Beckett for the very last time. In the past month, Beckett’s health and mobility had taken a striking downturn, and the quality of his life no longer honoured the life he’d lived. While the decision to release him from pain and fear was the most responsible, compassionate, and loving decision for Beckett, my brain and my broken heart are temporarily misaligned. The gift of having had this gentle, perfect, precious little soul placed into my care and keeping for his lifetime was one of the greatest blessings of my own life. This photo of Beckett drying off on the dock at Gyles Point, chewing one of Chuck’s fire sticks, is from August 2015. The only thing Beckett loved more than snow was water, especially up in Apsley, on Chandos Lake, in the company of my godchildren, Kate and Michael, who adored him, and whom he adored. I hope that, somehow, by some miracle, time itself curves and bends in the afterlife, and Beckett is back there with all of us, in an eternal summer at the lake, feeling nothing but the warmth of the sun on his soft black fur, and our love enveloping him. This grief is vast and fathomless and terrible. The house is missing its soft, warm nexus, and my empty arms ache. Rest well, my sweet baby. You gave us everything.
