Monday Dec 20, 2004

Universal truths exist irrespective of size.

Courage, love, spirit, and loyalty describe Larry, my four-pound Yorkshire Terrier.

It was biting cold outside. I did not know that today would be the day I had held in dread. The infirmities of old age had conspired against him—failing eyesight, hearing, arthritis, and yesterday, most likely a stroke. Larry was eighteen and a half years old and had traveled everywhere with me. He had lived a beautiful life, and now it was time for a beautiful death—without pain and suffering.

To make the transition painless, the vet gave Larry a strong sedative. About ten minutes later, the vet administered the lethal injection. I placed my ear on Larry’s chest. His heart had stopped; now he was truly sleeping the sleep of the innocent. 

He was a good boy. I petted his body and kissed his soft ear for the last time.

I left the animal hospital as a cold wind cut like tiny razors on my face. I drove off, unable to hold back the tears for a little comrade with the heart and soul of a champion. Larry will never be forgotten.»