“Who is that, Max? Is that Sissy?” He huffed in response, looking up at her as he started his little tap dance. “Maxy, hi! I miss you so much!” What I would give to hear him tap down the halls again.
His departure seemed to be the one we dreaded the most. It would seem like it was time and then things would be back to normal. He’d run around the house, wiggle and scratch his back on the carpet. He’d get these spurts of energy and zoom through the living room before playing with Daisy. They’d play and play before he'd fall to the floor, huffing and puffing, trying to catch his breath. Cancer toyed with him more than the others. Over the last two years we started to feel these bumps on his body under all of his hair. One even started to grow on his face. It got to a point where it would bleed, scab over, before splitting and bleeding twice as much. On his last day, it opened and seemed like it was starting to fall off. That was when we knew it was time. We kept him outside and tried to keep him on the grass. Try not to get blood everywhere, baby. It was a weird goodbye, rushed. I hugged him and squeezed him extra tight for my brother who was away at school. He loved him so much and I wanted to make sure he could feel his love from 180 miles away. My mom said he was gone three seconds after they euthanized him. His head just dropped. After 13 long years, he finally got the chance to rest.
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