I knew from the moment I woke up on May 18th, 2014, that my life would never be the same. I had a distinct feeling of sadness throughout the morning. I went through the usual motions of brushing my teeth, eating breakfast, and petting my dogs; Samson, Tigger, and Todd. I paid special attention to Todd Bear that day, making sure I gave him extra belly rubs. Todd, a German Shepard-Lab mix, had been a part of the family since 2001. He and I basically grew up together. When I would learn a new skill, he’d learn a new trick. When I learned how to blow bubbles, he got his long muzzle stuck in a red Solo cup. When I took naps, he would sleep right beside me. I had always thought that my future children would get to play with him in the green grass and throw a tennis ball for him even though he was too lazy to chase after it. However, over time his tan paws turned gray, and his black nose turned white. My childhood friend was getting old, and the day had come to say goodbye.
My parents and I packed the car up and helped our furry family member waddle outside and into our van. Todd never liked car rides, so my dad sat in the back seat with him so he wouldn’t be scared or lonely. We started our silent journey to the vet. Pulling up to the Veterinarians’ office, I tried to assure myself that it was just a checkup and that we weren’t doing anything final today. However, lying to yourself is like a double-edged sword. The four of us were lead into a small room, and Todd was inspected. They checked his paws, his cloudy eyes, and his worn-down hips. There was no doubt that he was an old bear. The vet looked into our wet eyes and told us that Todd could live for a few more months if we really wanted, but he would be in pain.
After much contemplation and belly rubs, we made the difficult decision to part ways with our beloved pet. We were able to say our final words of love and appreciation for the part that he played in each of our lives, remembering times we can never forget. He was always ready for an after-dinner pet, unwillingly playing with Tigger and Samson, jumping up on the counter and eating our steak dinner, and always being there for me when I was scared of the monster in my closet.
The vet prepped the IV and shaved off a small patch of Todd’s wiry fur, slightly above his paw. He didn’t yelp or shake. He was a brave boy and seemed very calm. My heart sunk as the gravity of the situation caught up to me. “Good boy.” I praised him. He took a final breath, and then my Todd Bear was still.