Today is the day I’ve dreaded for as long as I can remember—the day I have to say goodbye to Layers, my loyal companion for the past 16 years. She’s defied all odds, outliving nearly every other dog of her breed. Sixteen years of memories, and now it’s time to let her go. My heart is heavy, weighed down by the enormity of a decision that no one should ever have to make.
I had planned to make this call on Friday, but I couldn’t do it. How could I? How do you choose the moment when you say goodbye to your best friend? I was too scared, too selfish, too paralyzed with fear to do what needed to be done. For three days, Layers has been outside, lying on an old mattress under the trampoline. She’s been eating, drinking, but she’s struggling—just getting up to relieve herself, then collapsing back down, exhausted. And me? I could barely look at her. I hate myself for it. I hate that I couldn’t be strong enough to face what was happening to my girl. Was it fear? Was it sadness? Maybe it was everything, all of it crashing down on me, making it impossible to be there for her when she needed me the most.
Yesterday, the heat was unbearable, suffocating. She didn’t move all day. I was desperate to bring her some comfort, so I got her some McDonald’s cheeseburgers. Her eyes stayed closed, and her ears… her ears were leaking. But when I crawled down next to her, she snapped up that burger just like she always had. There it was—still that spark, that little piece of her fighting to stay. It broke me, shattered whatever was left of my heart. I wet her head with water, built a makeshift fort out of cardboard to keep her in the shade, set up the industrial fan to cool her down. But then, like the coward I am, I went back to bed, hiding from the reality of it all.
But then, half an hour later, there she was. Barking at the gate, wanting to come inside. This dog—my Layers. She found the strength to get up, and I saw her tail wag. I saw the whites of her eyes, heard those familiar paws on the floor. God, I was so proud of her. So fucking proud. I remade her bed inside, and she was content, settled down like nothing was wrong.
Last night, I went outside to watch the meteor showers. I saw a few streaks of light and made a wish—please, please let her fall asleep peacefully. Let her go without me having to make that choice. She deserves that. I thought maybe, just maybe, it would happen. But then I heard her crying. I heard it, and I fucking pretended to be asleep. I couldn’t bring myself to go downstairs, couldn’t face seeing her in pain. I am a coward, and I will carry that shame with me forever.
This morning, I woke up alone, except for my chihuahuas, who can sense that I’m breaking apart. I found out that she had been crying all night, in agony, only settling when someone was beside her. That someone should have been me. It should have been me.
The decision has been made. Three o’clock. I gave the okay, and now we’re here, just waiting. I’ve got my feet on either side of her, beautiful dreamscape music playing softly, trying to make her last moments as peaceful as they can be. She’s surrounded by us, by the other dogs, by music, by calm. She’s sleeping, and I keep catching myself checking if she’s still breathing, praying that she’ll just drift off on her own. It’s 12:19 now, and I’ve been lying here with her for hours. I wish, more than anything, that she’d just let go, that she’d slip away without pain, without fear.
But I know that’s probably not going to happen. I feel so alone right now, drowning in this grief. Life is too fucking short. Too cruelly short.
Sixteen years she’s given me. Sixteen fucking years of love, of loyalty, of memories that will never be enough. She was my first dog. My Layer Cake, my Lay Lay. And now, I have to say goodbye, and it’s tearing me apart.
3pm is coming, and she’ll be at peace. But I’m going to be left here, alone, with a hole in my heart that nothing will ever fill. She was my everything, and now, I have to let her go.
I was drifting off, and was awoken by a sudden slap of thunder and a fast, hard burst of rain that disappeared as quickly as it came.
Rain—my favorite weather. It’s almost like Frank is making it clear to me he’s up there and that he’ll look after Layers. Eepa was Layer’s best friend for 15 years, and she passed a few months ago, naturally.
They’ll be together soon.
This is the first time I’ve found thunder comforting.
It’s done now. Layer’s gone. It took three doses of sedative—three, instead of the one that was supposed to be enough—just to get her to a relaxed state. Even at the end, she was still fighting, just like she always has. She’s always been a fighter, and today was no different.
It’s 16:20, and my head is pounding, echoing the thunder that rolled through earlier. I already miss her. I miss her so much that it feels like a part of me has been ripped away. She fell asleep with her head in my hand, and I can still feel the weight of her there, as if she’s somehow still holding on. But she’s not. She’s gone, and I can’t process it, but I have to. I have to find a way to live with this, to carry on without her.
I saw true love today. The kind of love that demands sacrifice, that tears you apart even as it fills you with a quiet, profound peace. Sacrifice and love are hard to come by, but today I saw both, felt both, and I know I’ll never be the same because of it.
Layers taught me so much about love—unconditional, unwavering, pure love. The kind of love that doesn’t flinch in the face of pain, that doesn’t retreat even when it feels impossible to go on. The kind of love that holds on until the very end, until there’s nothing left to give.
As I sit here in the silence, with the echoes of her last breaths still lingering in my mind, I know that this was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it was also the most loving thing I could do for her. Letting her go was the last act of love I could give, even though it feels like it’s broken me in the process.
The house feels empty now, and so does my heart. But I know she’s at peace, and that has to be enough. It’s the only comfort I have right now, in the midst of this overwhelming grief.
I loved her enough to let her go, and that’s something I’ll carry with me forever. She’s gone, but the love we shared—that will never leave me. It’s a part of me now, just like she was, and it always will be.
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