Personal Essays

We’re sitting on the park bench. The bag of all of his belongings sits next to me. It serves as the reminder that this is not just another trip to the park. He rests his head in my lap and looks up, his worried look. I want to cry then, I am worried too. He is my Taz now, and I am still sending him away. He loves me, and I know it. How can I break that trust? How can I make him go?

It is impossible to describe how hard that last day was. Taz, though all the ups and downs, the heartaches and the joys, had cemented himself firmly into my heart. I loved him. How do you not love the dog who is hurt repeatedly, the dog who is punished for reacting to his pain with dog language instead of with human language? How do you not love the dog who is abandoned by every person who he chooses to love, and yet still loves you so easily. How do you not love the dog that puts his trust in you as his leader even when you have sent him away before? How do you not love the dog who, through all his pain and confusion, through all the times his trust was broken, still approached life with extreme joy?

How do you send away the dog you love?

I knew that he would be okay without me, the worry that enveloped me was whether I would be okay without him. I could have done what my heart asked me to do. I could have kept Taz easily. He is my boy. But, I sat there on that bench with the dog I loved and I let him go