Lady MacBeth, not afraid anymore.
That sentiment, penned by a 12-year-old girl, who, for all intents and purposes, was Lady MacBeth's sister, now adorns a pink heart in the euthanasia room at the Pacific Coast Veterinary Hospital.
Saying goodbye to our dog was the most difficult thing I have ever done.
And now, with all my heart, all I want to do is write something worthy of the incredible 10 and a half years she gave me.
But I've got nothing, just a giant black hole where she used to shine so brightly in my life.
A bunch of random expressions force their way into the numbness in my head: 'man's best friend', 'no love like the love of a dog', 'be the person your dog thinks you are', 'a dog is the only thing on Earth that loves you more than she loves herself.'
My bug certainly embodied all of that and much more.
The other thing I can't get out of my head is Chris Stapleton's "Maggie's Song," specifically the third verse.
It was raining on a Monday The day that Maggie died She woke up and couldn't use her legs So I laid down by her side
She put her head on my hand Like she'd done so many times I told her she was a good dog Then I told her goodbye
That's very much how it happened for us.
For the past several months, Lady MacBeth had been slowing down. Our walks got shorter and shorter to the point they were about as long as it took to take care of business. She struggled to get up the two little stairs at the front of the house.
Then, on Tuesday night she just stopped getting up. There would be no walk that night. Nor Wednesday morning. When I lay down with her and she put her chin in my hand, she looked at me as if to say "help me."
I made the appointment for Friday.
Lady MacBeth was a very well-travelled dog and her favourite thing was being in the car with the window rolled down. The two of us had driven across the country and back again. She sniffed and peed on every province. I can't even count the number of kilometres we covered.
On Friday, we gave her steak for lunch and managed, somehow, to get all 130 pounds of her onto a kid's sled and into the car for one last drive in the country. She stuck her face out into the wind as she had countless times in the past.
We took her out to the lake and opened the door. She wouldn't (couldn't) get out, but she sat with her nose up in the air, taking in all the wonderful scents as the wind ruffled her long, silky fur for the last time.
In the calm and comfortable goodbye room at the vet hospital, I learned an incontrovertible fact. There is nothing in this world that can prepare you for the devastation of losing the unconditional affection, steadfast loyalty, and unwavering companionship of a good dog.
There are no intellectual gyrations that can prevent the heart-wrenching explosion of emotion that comes with letting go, no matter how much of "the right thing to do" it is.
Within seconds of the sparkle draining from her eyes, I missed her in a way that forever redefined that concept for me.
With her life, all creativity and originality seem to have been drained out of me, so I will finish this with the words of Chris Stapleton: I never knew me a better dog, and I guess I never will.
I still can't believe she's gone.
RIP Lady MacBeth the Newf, Sept. 22, 2014 - April 25, 2025.
