We had to put my little sweatheart down Saturday night.

[pat_k]

59. Please be as gentle with yourself as you would be with a friend in your shoes.

I have no idea what, if anything awaits us, but I love the imagery this poem evokes -- a vision of all my good dogs and the warmth of gratitude for the joy they brought to my life.

Of course I could have/should have done better -- walks or care I thought I didn't have time for -- but that pales in comparison to the countless loving moments we shared.

If our canine companions can teach us anything, it's how to just be. They are the epitome of living in the moment. No rumination about past mistakes; no dread about what tomorrow may bring.

Whether I need a reminder of all my good dogs, or just a good cry in times of grief, this is my go to poem. I offer it in the hope you find a little comfort in it at this difficult time, and in the future.

In My Good Death
By Dalia Shevin•October 2010
— For David Shevin, in loving memory

I will find myself waist deep in high summer grass.
The humming shock of the golden light.
And I will hear them before I see them
and know right away who is bounding across
the field to meet me.

All my good dogs will come then,
their wet noses bumping against my palms,
their hot panting, their rough faithful tongues.

Their eyes young and shiny again.
The wiry scruff of their fur,
the unspeakable softness of their bellies,
their velvet ears against my cheeks.

I will bend to them,
my face covered with their kisses,
my hands full of them.

In the grass I will let them knock me down.