By Lisa Cohn
On April 28, we said good-bye to our 13-year-old golden retriever, Hudson.
His tumor had grown so big he couldn’t pee. My vet said that we had to say good-bye, or he would start having seizures. His kidneys were failing.
The hardest part: His brain and heart were all there.
On his last day, I spent the day with Hudson at his favorite park.
I gently tossed him a tennis ball–which he could still catch. We greeted friends.Hudson wagged his tail and leaned into them.
Then we sat down in the grass and looked into each other’s eyes.
While I gazed at his face, tears poured down my cheeks, neck and chest.
He came closer and gave me that look I know so well. He offered it when I was angry, anxious or sad.
“How can I help?” he asked.
Until the very end, he wanted to care for me–even when I could no longer care for him.
