Her corpse rests on a long stainless steel bench and I contemplate how we came to this point. Being roommates, we’ve barked at each other once or twice, but reflecting on the defining moments of our fifteen-year relationship brings memories of love and joy.
Tears begin to flow.
My D.V.M. accomplice asks if I need a minute alone.
I say I do and he stops in the door’s threshold before saying, “It would be alright if you want to hold her.”
I pause momentarily before cradling her soft, warm body. I whisper, “Goodbye, old girl. Thanks for being my friend.”