Killing my best friend.

Chester the Old English Sheepdog

In two weeks I have to kill my best friend and I’m devastated.

After 14 years of selfless companionship Chester my Old English Sheepdog will be put to sleep. All this time he has either traveled with me or patiently held the fort back home, but there will be no more sailing with “ye old sea dog”, for he is much too frail and there is soon to be no place to call home (other than my small boat).

I can’t help but feel guilty. While he has several tumors and little strength for even a short walk (he frequently stumbles and falls), he is still his old self; always happy to be in company and eager for a snack or two.

If I didn’t intend to move out of my house he may have lived a few more months, but I know that he can not survive a move and I don’t want him to suffer.

The last time I took him to visit the vet the 5 minute car trip almost killed him. He collapsed upon arrival and the veterinarian wanted to put him down then and there.

I refused. When he dies it will be at home in familiar surroundings.

Not a day has gone by in 14 years that he has not made those around him smile. A perpetual source of joy will be lost to me forever the day Chester the Old English Sheep-dog dies and I will unashamedly shed a tear or two for my ever faithful friend.