How many times have I drafted this obituary in my head? Sydney had been dying for years, or so it felt. If you’ve ever seen a dog age, you’ll know: Their death comes too slowly and entirely too fast, all at once.
The memorials I penned were full of humor and frankness. They captured Sydney’s essence perfectly: her aloofness that later turned to irritability, her tenacity of spirit, her stubborn-yet-sweet refusal to do anything other than what she wanted, to be anything other than what she was.
They were the words of someone whose dog died a good death, surrounded by loved ones, a hard but correct choice at the end of a gradual decline… More here.