Two weeks ago we had to put our dog of 12 years down. We were told this by the vet who examined him and told us there was absolutely nothing that could be done for him.
My wife, who our dog was closest too, was absolutely beside herself and I knew she wouldn't be able to go to the vet to have it done.
I absolutely hated the notion of having to do it myself. Growing up, my pets had either gone peacefully at home or met a sudden tragic end, but I'd never before been in the position of having to go to the vet to put a pet down.
But knowing my wife couldn't handle it herself, and I didn't want my dog to be alone in his last moments, so I knew I had to go so that someone who loved him (and I did love him, even though he wasn't necessarily your typical lapdog) would be there until the end.
I was very upset myself throughout all of this--I had to wear sunglasses because I didn't want to look like I was making a scene--so I ended up going with my mother-in-law. On the way there, she basically took the attitude that "This was a hard decision to make, but I'm the only one in the family who makes those decisions and I'm the one who has to be the bad guy."
We go to the vet, I go into the room, my mother-in-law starts complaining that her allergies are bothering her and decides to leave. I stay, and the bring my dog in, and I stay with him until the very end.
It was very peaceful but still very haunting for me all in the same.
I go out to pay the bill for the procedure and we get back in the car and I drive my mother in law home.
And on the way home, she points out, totally unaffected, that the initial visit (where they examined our dog and told us there was nothing that could be done) was complimentary, so at least we didn't have to pay for that.
I mean....really. Money was the very last thing on my mind at that point.
But that's my mother-in-law. No surprise that she's a fervent supporter of Trump. And she definitely takes a very harsh realist approach towards life without exceptions.
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