When I put Nicky in the car for a “we just had a cancellation” appointment with the vet, it never crossed my mind that he wouldn’t be coming home. That wasn’t on my radar at all. All I knew was that he was really sick and I just wanted the vet to give me magic pills. I was in denial and automatic pilot. Nicky knew the drill at the vet and just walked in as usual, but maybe a little slower. He wasn’t anxious or afraid. He was just tired. When I met the caring eyes of the vet my heart sank. Reality hit. No turning back. Let’s just hit the rewind button with a “oh never mind.” Everyone but me knew how ready Nicky was. I just kept adjusting …. Such as clapping my hands for his attention because I knew he couldn’t hear my voice anymore. And having to put a leash on him to go outside because he’d get confused and couldn’t find his way back. And I didn’t mind lifting up his back hips for him occasionally when he struggled to do it himself. I ignored the full dish of food still sitting there and ran for a paper towel each time I found a puddle on the floor. It was okay because he still followed me from one room to the next, sometimes anticipating my moves. He loved standing by the side of my favorite chair so I could easily pet him. And spreading at my feet in the kitchen patiently waiting for me to get sloppy. For fifteen years he gave continuous pure love and got it back unconditionally. He would practically stop mid-air to instantly respond to the call of his name. And would follow a “stay” command without question no matter what. He was a small 20 pound, male, pure bred Sheltie. His tri-color coat was so beautiful that he was often taken as a female. Dog groomers commented on how he’d relax and enjoy his spa time, then prance with pride at how handsome he was. He lived his entire life on a gravel salt water bay. Forever in my mind is the sight of him running the length of the beach as fast as his little legs could move chasing the lap of the tide coming ashore. That was his favorite games next to chasing birds and catching anything you’d throw for him. There was definitely something special about Nicky. He was all about love and it shined through his beautiful brown eyes. I swear he often smiled with joy. There was a grace about him that was exceptional. Everyone fell in love with Nicky, even if they weren’t dog fans. I’ve relived my actions to take him to the vet that day. I now believe it wasn’t my decision at all but rather his. He just guided me to where he needed to go. He knew before I did. He trusted me to be with him…and I was.



It’s been a few days now. I hear his feet on the floor, if I listen and I see him under the coffee table..if I want. There is no doubt that the love we shared and the memories of joy are far greater than the pain of loss – and that’s just life and death, again. Thank you, Nicky, for your love.