Ken dreaded this day. Fleeting scenes played out in his mind for
many months. Typically, he ignored them
and thought of something else. Still,
the scenarios were unrelenting and pushed him to the precipice. There he would be shown the day Tank would be
sick enough to force the decision to put him down. That day just slapped him in the face. He would again take the dog to the
veterinarian. The vet would give the
option of some expensive procedure the family couldn’t afford or give Tank a
shot and he would peacefully go to sleep never to wake again.
More than anything, Ken felt guilt
for killing the pet he loved. No, he
would not be the one giving the injection.
Still, it was Tim’s decision.
Guilt taunted and shook him. They
couldn’t afford to pay for surgery. In
his mind, Ken knew life was more important than money. But Tank was a pet. If this was his wife or kids, there was no
question he would spend every penny they had. No debt would be too great. That Tank was an animal gave no comfort . Tank was more than a pet. He was family. Again, guilt crushed in.
Pictures of Tank’s last day with the
family assaulted Ken’s consciousness.
They’d give their beloved pet everything he loved in one day. He’d enjoy his favorite foods, treats, toys
and games. This part of the story was
filled with brightness and smiles. Then
Tank got the injection and everyone hugged and kissed him as they said
goodbye. He was happy but Ken felt like
shit. He killed his dog.
This is how Ken envisioned it: As he says his goodbyes to Tank, the dog looks
at his master with adoration. He would
submit to the alpha as he always did. Tank
rolls onto his back and Ken rubs the dog’s chest. Brokenhearted, Ken bends down and hugs the
dog. As the medicine takes effect in the
old dog’s body, he licks his master’s face.
At least, that is how Ken imagined it.
Tank would love and forgive his master even in death. That killed Ken most of all.
