With regret in my soul, I say that my dog, Tara, passed from this world.

We got her 12 years ago, when she was just 3 year old, abandoned by a hunter who didn't need her. She was a unique dog: peaceful, loving, loyal, determined and tenacious. I couldn't have possibly asked for more, and most certainly this world would not have been able to provide no better friend and companion as Tara was. Every walk was a joy, and every moment at home was full of attention and fun. Never did she fail to impress us with her love and infinite energy, and she charmed everyone who met her.
However, time does not stop for anyone, and age shows its signs. Even the unstoppable determination of the freest soul cannot resist the decay of our mortal vessels. Muscles weaken, senses falter, and you become vulnerable and fragile. She had many illnesses, most of which she fought off.. She lost an eye, broke a leg, suffered from Cushing's... but in the end, she just couldn't fight anymore. For the last year, I've carried her, in my arms, up and down the stairs, because her legs were too weak to help her up the stairs. She could walk, but she couldn't climb. I kept her comfortable when she was scared, I kept her warm when she was cold; she was always free to do as she pleased, no limitations at all; and we both benefited enormously our unique relationship of love and friendship. She was the reason I'd smile when coming home from school, she was the reason I'd smile when sitting at the TV, she made me - us happy just by being there.

She was 15. She died on a warm, sunny May day, surrounded by her family. We were there, I was there for her, as I promised her I'd be whenever I could.

The vets come in their black van, solemn yet cold. It's their job to end lives, so they can't start getting sentimental with you - it's not "professional". They smile comfortingly for a second, shuffle in silently. Open their kits, ask us to sign some papers, give some information about Tara. They ask us to sit by her as they proceed with their job.
It's such a simple and straightforward procedure, yet your heart is ripped apart by anguish and pain, each passing second stabbing another cold dagger in your soul.
In half an hour, all the preparation steps are done.

I try to fight back the sorrow and the rage, and to maintain your composure. It is excruciatingly hard, to keep yourself from not breaking down. In the end, I give her a hug, a final kiss on the nose, I thank her for making my life happy, and I take 5 minutes to just silently vent out my feelings, my head on the pillow, next to hers...

Death, though, comes in less than 10 seconds. It is calm and uneventful, as she falls asleep first because of the anesthetics. Then her heart beats slower and slower... and she is gone.

We pay our final respects. Then, they take her to incinerate her and return us her ashes into a funeral urn. A beautiful dog, a paragon of energy and love, now encased in a cold and lifeless ceramic urn.

The black van becomes the ghostly ferry, forlornly drifting away.
The road melts, becoming the deathly-still waters of the Styx.
They become Charon.

And I am left only with memories, the photos in the album, and a cold, black emptiness in my soul. I come home and it is empty, devoid of any happiness. Tara is here no more, sitting on the couch, looking at the door, waiting there for me. The hazel eye that radiated love and care is now closed and plunged into darkness. The house is silent, as the leash with the little cat bell is now lying on the table. I wake up in the morning, and she is not here.
I will never, for my whole life, forget you, Tara. You were there for us, providing us with interminable love and loyalty, making our days happy and warm. I will be here for you, as I promised you long ago, making sure no one will forget you. Every morning, every night, every moment of the day, I will keep you in my heart, remembering you as the best friend I ever had, have, and will have. And maybe, one day, we'll go for a walk in the big dog park in the sky...

~ Rest In Peace ~ 1997 - 2010 ~