We put Katie down yesterday.

It was an awful decision to have to make, especially since the time between Thursday’s “Gee, you don’t look so good” and the following Tuesday’s goodbye forever was shockingly short.

There’s something merciful about a swift ending, though. I’ve propped up an animal’s life long past the point where either of us was very happy about it, and ultimately I think the people who told me, “The treatments are costly, but in the end it’s the animal who pays” are probably right. In the face of an agressive, fatal cancer, at least, I think we did the right thing.

I mean, I have to think that or the guilt is unbearable.

Before we got to that point, however, on Saturday, I contacted our breeder in Anaheim and told him what was going on.

He said, “Here, take this.”

Her name is Cookie.

She and Katie have the same mom.

They wagged their tails at each other and played in the grass. Katie taught her how to pee outside, and for that I’m forever in her debt.

It’s a strange combination of feelings, to be carrying so much grief for Katie and to be so happy to have this new little beast romping around the house.

I don’t know what else to say.