In the course of my pretzel-shaped journey through life I have dug myself some pretty deep holes, often made worse because I never knew when to stop digging. On this day six years ago I dug a hole just deep enough to take Malty's little doggie basket.
I dug it below the tree I had planted many years ago in memory of my best friend Noel Butler. The tree never put down roots deep enough to grow into a big tree just as Noel never put down roots deep enough anywhere after he had come down to Australia from New Guinea.
Little Malty was fifteen years old which in human years puts him into the mid-eighties and he had been on heart tablets for a long time. When we had him x-rayed it showed that his much enlarged heart (which he gave to us in unconditional love) was pushing against his windpipe. He'd been no more than skin and bones, no longer ate, could barely stand upright, and had trouble breathing. On this day six years ago, we finally found the courage to take him to the vet for the injection that gave him a dignified and gentle death. Dying closes the circle of life, and euthanasia is the last act of kindness we can give a sick and dying pets.
We placed him inside his soft sleeping box, covered him in his favourite blanket, and I put him to rest under Noel's tree so that whenever I look at it, I'm reminded of my best canine friend as well as my best human friend. There'll never be another Noel and never be another Malty.
