"Twelve days ago my best friend of seven years died peacefully in my lap. Her quick demise was unexpected and I am the sole person responsible for ending her life. Before you go calling me Kevorkian, let me explain.''
So begins my friend Wendy Doscher-Smith's sweet, loving and heartbreaking Ode to Franki-Jo in the September Biscayne Times. I urge you to read the whole thing-- with tissues.
If you've ever loved an animal and had to face the decision no one wants to make, you will not just understand but feel it in your gut. This resonated with me deeply:
"When the news sunk in that Franki was not coming home from the vet, a weird thing happened. I started crying really hard. Somehow this crying was different from my other Franki-related cancer crying. I guess that’s because it wasn’t crying at all; it was wailing. And it was almost comical in its melodrama. Like a scene borrowed from a dusty graveyard, where a mother throws herself upon her son’s coffin. I didn’t think I had it in me.''
A lot of us would feel the same. Thanks, Wendy.