“It’s Just A Dog.”

"The MRI will cost four thousand dollars."  That is what the vet said to my brother, thank god he was not talking to me.  He was told his pet Rexie needed the scan to determine if she had a tumor on her brain.  Rexie is fourteen years old and blind.  She is a loving, sweet and gentle animal.  Without the MRI there would be no way to restore her sight, relieve her suffering or save her life.  Her prognosis is grim.  Yet, even with the MRI and any successful treatment resulting from it, she will not likely live much longer.  Such is the reality of pets.

While completely  predictable,  the realization that your beloved pet, a family member unqualified in any meaningful way, will likely predecease you, is nevertheless something for which it is impossible to prepare.  I can only begin to imagine the sorrow he and his family will feel when she dies.  And I do not envy them the decision to forgo the possible life-lengthening treatments based almost entirely on the costs of those treatments.  To say, "oh, she's just a dog" is to so understate the magnitude of the decision as to render it as meaningless as it is trite.  Making such a decision is the ultimate burden conferred as a result of the unwritten covenant that accompanied the pet to your home.  A burden often fully understood if ultimately underestimated.

It will be had to imagine life without the joy Rexie was, it is even harder to imagine what the last fourteen years would have been like without that joy.  A blessing beyond description even with the tears of her passing.