The passing

'The vet is here.'

'Do you want to watch?'. I nodded and followed, wanting to be there for it as it had for me for the past 14 or so years.

We entered the room. I called its name, but he so weak, all it could do was to raise his head but did not have the strength to look at me. We had to carry it in from the car earlier. I crouched and gave him a pet. One assistant held him down, while the other searched for a blood vessel in its front right leg. He missed the first time, but at the second try, crimson started to enter the syringe, clearly noticable over the pink-purple tinge of the euthanasia agent.

A nod, and he pressed on the syringe. The dog gave a slight shiver, and its head dropped to the side, which caught me by surprise as I had expected it to take perhaps a minute. One assistant felt its abdomen to ensure that the heart had stopped, and both left the room.

I stayed there for a short while, felt its nose and whiskers a last time and ensuring that its eyes were closed. I then gave it a final pet, walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.