My dog Domino died about 4 years ago this October.

Domino was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and by managing her diet, giving her a chance to go on very short walks everyday  and making sure she had lots of attention from me and her cat brothers ( who never left her side ) she had low if next to no stress in her day to day life. Domino had a few symptoms show up from day to day and none of the others that you would normally see in a dog suffering from this disease so I consider us lucky.

I won’t fool you, for the last two years of her life I was devoted to Domino and her care and it was a lot of work but I didn’t care-Domino was spirited and smart, she hated to get her paws muddy and loved getting her nails clipped and when she was a puppy she fought off and got the better of a dog that outweighed her by over 40 pounds.

Domino was an exceptional creature- second to none, two or four legged.

Domino and her brothers- when she got ill they insisted on going on walks with us.

One thing bothers me though- it bothered me the night she died and it bothers me now.

I had come home from work and as usual we went on our little walk, we ate dinner and we settled down to watch some TV in our bedroom.

After a few minutes  started to cough and then she got up, turned around a few times in her bed, she got comfortable and she died.

Domino went on her own clock, I believe that.

She knew what she wanted ( her walk, her dinner with Mom and our evening of tv watching ) and after she had her regular day she let go.

Me and Domino were alone together on the night she died- I put her pink blanket on her but I didn’t cover her face.

She had been such a pretty dog that I couldn’t do that- and I thought that if there was little spark in there somewhere, I wanted her to see me and her cat brothers until she was really gone.

I don’t know what I wanted to give her in those final moments of her life- she sort of ninja moved her way out of the world- but I guess was what bothered me was that she knew she was going to die  and I didn’t- I thought it was going to be another evening at home with my girl.

But it wasn’t like any other day – she died at the foot of my bed.

And I never got to say goodbye.

Domino shortly before she died- last month she would have turned 18 years old.

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