I'm sitting here crying. Absolutely. Crying. My friend Hannah, the vet tech who usually was with Bacchus when he visited, Oly's Mom, just called. She offered to give Oly to us.
She loves him dearly, adores him, but thought he'd be the ideal match for us. He's well trained. He's no longer just a puppy but by no means old. And he's a Saint. She had everything answered. When we wanted to travel, with our old kennel closing, she'd keep him. If something happened to us, he'd go back to her. Even my vet, at lunch the other day, said if we got another dog and something happened to us she and her husband would give him a home. Wow. If you wonder why I've thought so highly of these people, there is no better explanation than this.
No. There are two that have to be in concert with this decision and there aren't. Hub has made up his mind and there is no changing it. There is our age. My medical condition, whatever it is. The expense. Not immediately but as we age and the dog ages, the expenses increase. Just like with us. We were fortunate to be able to give Bacchus the very best care available. But it was expensive. Very.
And the heartache. The final months with Bacchus were bittersweet. We knew we were going to lose him. We just didn't know when or how. It was difficult. It was more than difficult. I was a mess. I'm more open with my feelings, but Hub, too, hurt more than I knew. And still does.
As much as I miss having a dog in the family, the rest hasn't faded to the point that I'm ready to look down a similar road again.
Oly has a wonderful, loving home with two Labs as playmates, and humans much younger and more energetic than I will ever be again. I couldn't, wouldn't, remove him from that. It's where he belongs. It's his home.
But the thought, the gesture is unlike anything I've ever experienced. I will never, ever forget it. Thank you Hannah. From the bottom of my heart. What more can I possibly say?