Coyote by Alison Kapsalis / Mom

Waiting

Heart pounding, stomach roiling, chest heaving, vision blurred. Lying on your dog bed belly down, feeling the hardwood floor on the front of my legs. Watching you lying there so patiently, eyes alert, your graceful head so emaciated from the ill effects of your medication. Just waiting. So quietly. Just waiting. Waiting to go; waiting for me to finally tell the vet “Yes, we’re ready,” waiting for your suffering to end. Watching the injection go in, feeling my breath stop as yours slowed. Reliving eleven and a half years of memories in a compressed nonosecond of time. Lying on the floor face to face so you could watch my eyes as you always loved to do. Waiting and watching the life and light in your eyes slowly dim, then become permanently extinguised. Cradling your still warm body against my quaking one and watching my tears vanish into the golden fur on the top of your head. Saying goodbye, feeling goodbye, being goodbye. And then you were gone……

 

I love you, Coyote. I promised we'd get you out of that body, and we did. Peace wherever you may be