Molly knows. Each time she walks around the house, sniffing things that have always fascinated her, I know it might be the last time. It has been hard to separate her from her sister, Jessy, so that I can just focus on her. Jessy knows. Jessy went into bed early this morning. Molly stood beside me with her head dropped.
I took her alone for a walk up the hill. She was having trouble with her breathing. It has gotten worse. She walked down the road and I expected her to keep going, to pass our house. She has never passed it before. She didn't this time. This was home. The only home she ever knew.
New Hampshire was both good and hard on her. She loved being around other animals. She missed her back yard, the flowers around our home, the smells. I knew I had to bring her home. She was an amazing good trooper when we traveled. Great kenneling, too.
She walks into her bed and was in the room a few minutes. She lost her balance once. Had a little trouble breathing. Molly stepped outside the room looking to see if I was still in the kitchen and then she returned to her bed. I followed her.
I laid down beside her and Jessy, my head tucked into their separate pillows. Jessy was lying across both pillows as she usually does. Molly was tucked close to the washing machine. She couldn't stop licking me.
Once again and twice even Molly came out to check on me. She just stared. There were no more words to be shared. We had shared her lifetime. Said our goodbyes.
One more time I carried her into the cargo area in the back of the Impreza. Hooked her in so she would be safe. We took a long ride through town. The I carried her out of the car. She sniffed everything outside the vet's office. One last time.
Loving something is knowing when it is time to let them go. Rest in peace.
Peace. Always.
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