The thing about the death of Nina is that she represents to me a section of my life. And it has come to an end. So I’m evaluating the beginning, middle, and end of this time. It’s over. And, sure, it’s not the end of the world. But, it’s still an end.

When did the end begin? Maybe a few years ago when she first needed medical care for her issue. But maybe it was just the last year or so when I felt more and more tender toward her, and felt our time together was reaching a close.

It’s was actually easier to forget about her because she needed less exercise. She was content to laze around for longer periods. But I invented ways to interact with her that weren’t exercise. I talked with her more and cuddled her more, for instance.

I couldn’t imagine life without her, and wanted to “add” to her good feelings about our friendship. Like, I wanted to be more than a caretaker. I wanted to be like a daughter would be toward her aging mother. I wanted to thank her.

Now the birds are chirping the way they did the morning she died. And my tears are flowing. Will I always feel like I wasn’t good enough to her? She was the absolute best. I was okay. I appreciated her. But I couldn’t find a way to demonstrate how much I adored her, loved her.

Nina, Rest In Peace, my good puppy. You improved my life at a magnitude impossible to express. You accidentally fell on hard times and I rescued you. But who was really rescued? It was me. You came to rescue me. Thank you, little girl. You did it. I will love you forever.