The price you pay
There's a high price for owning a dog. It's not just the cost monetarily. There is the time and lost sleep too. Getting up to a whining dog at two in the morning, when it's raining or snowing or the wind is howling, is no fun. You stumble out like a zombie and get the little lad or lass and make it to the door. You stand out there, eyes drooping, as the little critter sniffs and scampers here and there. You wonder if the poo or pee will ever come. Finally, the job done, you scoop the little one up and hurry to the house. You're aggravated, but when that little tongue brushes your hand or chin, all is forgiven.
Through it all the money flows. Food, vet bills, shots, tags, equipment, toys, more food. But it doesn't matter. They've lain with you in the dark when you couldn't sleep. They've become your best friend.
Then comes that day. The day that you've dreaded ever since you picked them up. The day when you carry the now grown dog into the office and the news isn't good. Your friend can't go any more and it's time to end the suffering.
The veterinarian makes ready his elixirs as you lean down over your beloved and strum their ears with soft coos. Tears drip. The shots are given and the deal is done. There's no turning back now, and your buddy sinks away; pain subsiding. Your heart feels like it's being torn and your fingers dig into that dense fur. You bawl like a baby as your best friend leaves this world.
Then the reckoning. The price paid wasn't in money or time or travel. The true price paid is far worse than any of that. It was the day you looked into those little eyes and your heart melted. It was in all the cuddles and pets and scolding. It was what you knew on the day that you brought your little dream boat home. It was the day you had to let go of that dear soul that made you so happy for so long. The day when your heart would break for a dog.
That is the price you pay.
I'll keep you in my prayers.