It is from a blog called Cigars and Whiskey and is dated November 7th. The author is S. L Tate.
When my son was four years old our dachshund, Mollie, died in my arms as the veterinarian injected her with a lethal dose of medicine. I had watched Mollie suffer immensely for three days with seizures, an inability to drink or eat without vomiting, incontinence, and paralysis of her back legs. The pain, confusion, and utter suffering behind her big brown eyes ripped at my conscience. The vet had suggested that we force feed nearly a thousand dollars worth of medications into poor Mollie so that she may get through the weekend. She was clearly dying and the medicine would only be delaying her death a few days. I decided to show mercy on Mollie and not prolong her suffering one more day and opted to euthanize her, a decision that was difficult to participate in but, in the end, the most humane option.
My son was confused about Mollie –how was she supposedly ‘gone’ when he could still see her? Death, whether brushed off with the religious explanation of a spirit leaving its carcass and floating off to heaven or the more pragmatic idea that the person is simply gone, the body essentially powered off, is not an easy concept to grasp. A life that was once complex with experience, emotions, and thoughts will, eventually and inevitably, cease to exist, and there will never be that individual person again. This idea is too much for many adults to handle, making it a more controversial subject for parents to discuss with their children than sex. With my son, however, I just told him some simple truth: Mollie is dead, her body no longer functions and will never come back on, but we are very lucky to have known and loved her and she will live on in our memories.
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