You never forget your first love

Five years ago today, I made the decision to put down my dog, Simba. To this day, I still cry.

He was old and very sick. He couldn't get himself up from the floor to go to the bathroom. Keeping him alive would have been cruel. I loved him so much, he was my first dog as a Grown Up. He was my best buddy. We loved to walk, he'd go bye-bye with me and I'd share with him off my plate.

Simba was next to me as I watched the horror of 9/11 unfold that morning. He licked my tears and let me bury my head in his abundant soft, white fur.

While we were in Bay City for the Family Reunion Weekend, I told Rick it was time. We found a vet, who confirmed that the dog we had adopted not even 2 years earlier was dying. It was also confirmed that he was well into the double digits in age, whereas we'd been initially told he was 3-5 years.

We'd never visited that vet office before, but they were the most compassionate people. They gave the 5 of us a big room to say goodbye. We were to open the door when we were ready for The Shot. Then, we were welcome to stay with Simba as long as we wanted. (A few days later, they even sent us a sympathy card!)

We left, but I never questioned that decision. Simba's eyes never looked betrayed. He was never afraid. He died with dignity.

Simba was my first love. Even though I love my Niko very much and have had him for more than 4 years now (he's a verifiable 10 years old)...but you know, you just never forget your first love.

Rest in peace, my Simba.

The Last of Sheila (Coburn)