One night I was up watching television and Sheba came down to lie next to me.  After a while I got up to go to bed.  I looked down at her wondering why she wasn’t coming along.  “Well,” I said, “Are you coming or not.”  She raised her head and looked up at me but didn’t move.  “I’ll see you later then,” I informed her.  I figured that she was just comfortable and would be in later.  She didn’t always go to the room with me but she was always there when I awoke.

   In the morning my mom called me from the living room and said that there was something wrong with Sheba.  I went out and found that she was lying exactly in the same position as when I had left her and I knew that something was definitely wrong.  I walked over to her and she again raised her head to look up at me but her body remained still.  “Oh god!”

   “Come on, get up.” I said.  “Get up girl, lets go walkies.”  Her ears moved to this familiar and welcome word, her body still motionless.  “Get up I said!” I was yelling know, not because I was upset with her but because I was scared.  I could see in her deep brown eyes that she wanted to stand but just couldn’t.  I started to cry hysterically, not knowing what to do.

   After a few minutes my anxiety started to sway and I could think again.  I realized that I had to get her to the vet.  I called the number and was informed that they were closed that day and they recommended a twenty-four hour clinic.  I  down and picked my old girl up and brought her to the car, we would be at the vets office in about ten minutes.

   My tears rolled down my face as I drove and I screamed at every poor soul that got in my way.  I kept looking toward the back seat at Sheba, she seemed so confused over the whole ordeal.

   When we got to the vets I was immediately seen.  The vet came in and I gave him her history.  “She’s had three major surgeries and survived every one,” I told him.  “She’s a strong dog,” I insisted.  I was trying to convince that there was nothing wrong with Sheba, not because I didn’t want her to get cured, but because I was fearful that there was no cure to be had.

   After a few minutes of examining her, he made his prognosis.  “She has another tumor,” he said.  “It’s pinching the nerves on her spine and has paralyzed her.

   “But she was fine yesterday.”

   “The tumor has been growing for a while.  It finally grew the tiniest amount needed to affect her nerves.”

   “Can you operate?”

   “Yes, but she would need to undergo chemotherapy to treat the cancer.  She may die in surgery, if not she may be able to survive another year or so.”  He paused.  “Or we can put her down.”  I was stunned.  Her previous operations had been a financial burden on the family but we gladly made sacrifices to get her well again.

   “No chemo,” I told the doctor softly.  “She’s led a good life and it wouldn’t be fair.”  I wasn’t going to fight God for her anymore.

   “I understand,” he said.  “Take as much time as you need with her then.  I’m sorry.” He picked up his instruments and left the room.  I looked down at my best friend lying on the cold metal table.  She was looking up at me, trying to read my face.

   “Come on girl, get up.  Just stand up and we’ll leave.”  She could tell that I was upset and I knew that she was more concerned with me than herself.

   “Just stand up girl and we’ll go home O.K.?”  She put her nose to the table and tried to lift herself.  “There you go girl, you can do it.”  She tried with all her might but she couldn’t do it.  Her body had finally had enough.  I continued to plead with her and she tried a few more times to stand then finally gave up.  I put her head on my shoulder for what I knew would be the last time.  I wanted to be sure that I remembered every part of her, the way she smelt, the feeling of her fur and her breath on the back of my neck.  After about ten minutes I let her go.

   “You’re going to be fine,” I told her.  You’ve been a good girl and we all love you.”  I stood up and walked to the door, I turned and told her good bye and left.

   I really wanted to be there when she took her last breath, so that she would not be alone when she died but I just couldn’t bare it.  I had made the hardest decision of my life and felt an incredible loneliness.  My family and I never once questioned that decision though.  She had been a puppy, a mother and a friend.  Chemo would have kept her heart beating maybe for a few more months or so, but I knew that keeping her alive would only prove to postpone our sorrow.  Her life was hers and I felt that I had no right to deny her of that.  She had been a great companion 

   When I got home I called my mother and then my father.  “She’s gone,” was all that I could mutter.