Death is an absolute part of life.  It is painful, and depressing to lose a loved one, but at one point in time it will happen.  However, there are these things called memories.  Memories are reminiscences of life.  Life that should never, ever be taken for granted.
I remember when my family received a dog named Charley.  He was a Yellow Labador about five or six at the time, or thirty-five to forty-two in human years.  True to his middle age he was playful, rambunctious and a ball of seemingly endless energy.  Seemingly, because as time passed, he began to slow down.  The little things were the most noticeable.  He wouldn’t play as often, and he began sleeping neatly all day long.  It wasn’t until his leg joints began to stiffen I realized that my dog was aging before my eyes.  A decade passed and Charley took a turn for the worse.
It happened overnight.  One night he could move the next morning he couldn’t move at all; not even for the most basic of bodily functions.  His urine smelled of rotting food.  Even after it was cleaned up, the stench lingered as a grim reminder.  The color was bright yellow and stained everything it touched.  The inside of Charley’s whole mouth matched the color of his urine and fur; a horrible mock of color coordination.  Of all these, the most disheartening was the unnatural shape of Charley’s skull.  Crater like depressions formed on both sides of his head just in front of his ears.  It was as if his skull had caved in.
My family and I played nurse to him.  We spooned water into his mouth, and tried to feed him.  He wouldn’t eat, but we made sure he wasn’t dehydrated.  We placed him on a large cushion, and made sure he could see one of us at all times.  Every so often, one of us would sit next to him and pet him. It was all we could do.  On Saturday March 10th 2007, when it was clear he wouldn’t recover, my family took Charley to the veterinarian to be put to sleep.
Tears flowed like a waterfall down my sister’s face; she hardly shed a tear beforehand.  I suppose the finality of it hadn’t struck her until we placed him in the back of my 95 Suzuki Sidekick.  Once he was settled, we drove him for the last time.
The vet’s office was dismal.  The air was dank and had a stale odor that loomed over the lobby.  The walls were varying shades of dark and darker, and the floors were in desperate need of a magic eraser.  None of the members of my family had enough upper body strength to carry a 200 pound dog, so the office supplied a brawny young man to carry Charley for us.  In the assessment room, the same young man examined our dying dog.
“Stroke,” he said.  “See his skull? That’s an indication of it.”  He proceeded to inspect Charley’s mouth, “liver damage, that’s why his mouth is yellow.”  After that he studied each of us closely.  “You guys are probably doing the right thing.”  With that, he shut the door and left.  Seconds later an older gentleman entered with a syringe filled with pink fluid.  He couldn’t find a vein, so he injected the fluid into Charley’s chest. He turned to us, “It will take some time. You may stay as long as you like.”
He left and the wait game began.  I stood next to the table petting my beloved dog, refusing to let him die alone. A few moments passed, and the older gentleman came back to flip Charley over.  The waiting continued.  All the while, I was remembering the ten or eleven years I had Charley.  Flashes of laughing, petting, walking and running around the house with a squeaky toy filled my mind as Charley’s breathing slowed, slowed more and stopped.  With a bittersweet smile, I kissed my dog and left.
All life is precious and should never be taken for granted.  I was always affectionate with my dog, and I knew that he knew I loved him.  Still, I thought he would be around forever.  I forgot one absolute truth.  At one point in time, all living things must die.  Therefore we, as humans, should treat everyday as if it were the last, and not wait for something or someone to die before realizing how precious it was.  The saying, “you never know what you have until it’s gone,” should be the furthest thing from the truth.  In its place should be, “know what you have and when it is gone enjoy the memories.”  Because once it’s gone, and it will be, memories will be all that’s left.