What I Buried With My Dog

Lord, Bandit's tail still thumped when the vet brought the needle. "He's suffering," they said, showing me lab results I didn't understand. My hand shook signing the consent. As the sedative took effect, he licked my wrist like he did as a puppy. Later, the vet tech whispered, "He had maybe six good months left." Now his untouched leash hangs by the door. I robbed him of sunsets and belly rubs because I couldn't bear his limp. You entrusted me with his life, and I failed his trust.