Ode to Drake

To say that the fall of 2020 has been harsh to First Reader and me would be an understatement. In October, wildfire took our home. In November, we contracted covid. And here we are in December, having to send my fur-baby companion of the last 12 years over the Rainbow Bridge.

Drake became a permanent member of our family when Bonus-Daughter Two came to us with a request to take in a two-year-old, hyperactive Australian Shepard with a tennis ball addiction. We, of course, said yes. I spent the next ten years throwing a sopping wet ball down into our meadow.

In the beginning, I would wear out first (unless he lost the ball) and call a stop to his run. As the years progressed, he wore out sooner and sooner, until he could only fetch the ball one time. When he limped slowly back up to me, I knew it was time to retire the tennis ball. That was only this past summer.

By the time wildfire claimed our home, my Bright-Eyed boy could barely climb the two steps into the dog sitter’s house. Last week I contacted our veterinarian to take a look at my old guy. She agreed that his pain had reached an almost intolerable level. We could medicate him more, but I also knew that he would never see his home again. So, I made the decision that every pet-parent dreads—to send him peacefully to Doggie Paradise.

My heart is broken that he couldn’t see his home of 12 years one last time. As with all of our fur-babies of the past, Drake, my Bright-Eyed Boy, will live on in our hearts.