Goodbye Zorro

As a puppy, I brought him into my life on my lap.

Saturday I held him in my lap as he passed away.

Somewhere inside the rational part of me is calmly saying that it is better this way. He had an injury that can't really be treated. He was crippled and this way he didn't suffer.

The rational voice is small and hard to discern. The comfort offered by the rational voice is cold indeed.

I want to rage. I want to rampage. I want to destroy and destroy and destroy until my hands are broken and bleeding. Until my chest is heaving like a blacksmith's bellows. I want to break things until the physical pain is worse than the emotional.

I want the world to be fair and I want my dog back.

I don't want to have paid for the privilege of killing my dog.

But I can't break every object in my path and the world isn't fair and I do have to pay for the privilege and I can't have my dog back.

So I will keep it inside and simply weep.

I love you Zorro. I love you and I miss you and I'm sorry you didn't get to be my daughter's dog too.

Goodbye.