He was home. But, as I have found some veterinarians do, as I felt the doc did, “I believe he will do better at home. Call me in two weeks and tell me how he is”, yet full well knowing he is either sending him home to have those last few days with Mom. Or sending him home to die. Luckily it was the former. When I got home from my weekend trip yesterday I knew something was wrong. I begged him to come out from under the bed. I asked him to sleep with me just one more time. And he did. But he told he was ready to go. He told me he stayed on this planet just for me. To give me peace. I told him peace had been achieved and I gave him permission to leave this realm. And he agreed, yet he still wanted involvement. He still had one more request. I would have given him anything at that moment. He wanted me with him and he asked me to sing to him. Over and over. And I did. I did sing to him. Over and over. The tune to You Are My Sunshine.
“You are Moby, my only Moby. You make me happy when skies are gray. You never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my Moby away. And please don’t take my Sunshine away.”
After this morning, the sun never came out of the clouds. And when I got home, tears fell from the sky.
mellyfromtexas 