I euthanized your dog yesterday...

That old, beautiful dog that you released to the streets died in my home last night.  The beautiful senior who most likely had disease in his brain became a menace to society.  The one who had been physically injured probably trying to find his way back to you found his way to me.  The beautiful dog who should have been living out his days in a soft bed in your home should have died in your arms, not mine. 

God had a different plan.  Your boy came to me for help.  He died on a soft, thick blanket in my home.  I’m the one who did right by your dog in his last hours.  Even though he was sick and vicious, I fed him with love in my heart.  I had to use kitchen tongs to protect my own body.  I had to open his kennel very gently to avoid him aggressing at me.  He aggressed and I still nourished his body and mind that were failing him.

If only my nourishment of love and training were enough, he might still be alive today.  If only he had gotten the veterinary help he needed sooner, I may have been able to turn him around.  But I couldn’t.  You didn’t.  He was too dangerous and too ill to live. 

I was the one who did right by him.  We were two strangers meeting with a whole different intention. I did what you should have done.  But you didn’t. So I did.

Now I am the one who carries the burden of ending your dog’s life.  I know what I did was right.  That doesn’t change my heartache today as I sit here crying over your dog’s once lost soul.  He died with a family.  My family.

He died in comfort.  He was given the appropriate and humane veterinary care that every dog deserves.  When I should have been eating dinner with my family, I was tending to your dog taking his last breath.  I made sure he was warm.  He was loved.  He had the comfort of essential oils and soft music while he took his last breath.  I played him lullabies. 

His last meal was hot.  Roasted turkey, mashed sweet potatoes and turkey soup.  He gobbled it down while still wanting to kill me through his kennel. 

I could not hold your dog in my arms for his last breath but I was there every step of the way.  Every single step right out to the vet’s van.

No matter how scared I was, I did right by your dog.  His ashes will return to me to take pride of place in my hutch with my other pack members who have gone on before him.  Your dog is no longer yours.  He’s mine.  He will always be remembered by me.  The one who did right by him.