I took him out for a bath this morning, and to drink some water. He’s been so sprightly lately. Yesterday, he was running around like he was a puppy again, nuzzling everyone with his nose. He ate so many cans of dog food, and he followed me around the house as I did my chores. Today, he followed me up the stairs while I went to get something. I fed him some bread at lunch time. As Mom said, “Bread could be his middle name.” He used to get into whole loaves of bread.
We took him out on the dock after lunch. He walked by my side, eager to get a pet on the head. Mom and I sat on the bench at the end of the dock, while he put his head under my legs. I coaxed him over to mom where he did the same to her. She said to me, “You know he’s really your dog. Everyone loves him, but he’s your dog.” I told her, “You know it’s because he sat on my bed every day while I recovered from surgery.” And he sure did. Since then, he stayed by my side. Every time I came home, he’d give me that big, bashful grin.
Tory and I rode with him in the back of the red truck. His coat was gorgeous in the sun, and the sky was so blue. We took him into the vet’s office. We waited while they prepared his room with a warm fuzzy Pooh bear blanket. We each took turns giving him a big hug, I gave him three hugs: one for my brother, my twin, and finally from me. The vet came in. I asked, “This is the right thing to do?” He looked at me unwavering, “Yes, this is the best for him. The cancer will only make it worse.” He explained the procedure, and we all petted him one last time.
And in one breath, Napoleon was gone.
And if you were with me tonight,
I’d sing to you just one more time
A song for a heart so big,
God wouldn’t let it live.
