"Edgar" by Shirley Brown, OKC

Letting Go

By Robert Grupe

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I now truly believe that coming to love an animal and then experiencing the death of that beloved creature is a microcosm of the flow of human life. I am persuaded that if one does not experience such loss – then the inevitable passing of a human life can bring us to a depth of emotional despair for which we have no preparation at all.

To my dear friend Edgar Allen:

I first met you as you walked down the highway in front of our house. Around your neck was a thick logging chain, dragging for six feet or more behind you. I came across the street, took hold of the end of the chain and tied it to a tree in our neighbor's yard. You, a big brown bear of a creature, soon laid down and waited. I gave you water and fed you.

When my daughter, who worked at a vet clinic, asked to get you looked over, I agreed but added, "We already have too many dogs. He can go up for adoption, but we can't keep him."

Two days later, my daughter brought you back home and named you Edgar Allen Poe.

Not long after, on the evening before our family vacation to Florida, my wife accidentally stepped on you in the dark hall and, in your fright, you bit her hand. A surgeon performed emergency reconstructive work on one of her fingers at three in the morning, and no family vacation occurred that summer. All my friends assumed I had you put to sleep. Of course, you know that my wife forgave you, because she has an uncanny level of understanding and compassion and, eventually, so did I.

Your mixture of Rottweiler and Chow made you an easy grump with an attitude – yet with me you were always a big teddy bear. I don't know why you liked me best – but you were always most gentle with me.

You had been abused as a pup – that was evident from the chain scars on your neck. Over the two and a half years you were with us, you mellowed and became family.

Then one spring day you began to limp. My wife and I took you on your regular mile walk, but your limp became worse. We had the vet look at you – he could find nothing. A few weeks went by and you began to lose the use of your back legs. We took you on that long ride to Oklahoma State University in Stillwater to get an MRI and discovered the spinal growth blamed for the problem. You went into surgery and then, three days later, you came back home.

Your back feet were still paralyzed and, also, now you could not urinate. My wife and daughter catheterized you twice a day until, hopefully, you could relieve yourself on your own.

You remember that strange contraption with wheels we built for you? You hated it at first, but you humored us with your willingness to allow yourself to be strapped in to give it a try. We hoped that by propping you up on wheels that you would begin to exercise your hind legs and, according to the surgeon, have neurological improvement in your ability to walk.

The days went by – we all knew in the back of our minds what the end of July meant. You had to be getting better by then or we could not continue to work and hope for improvement, according to the vet.

When that day came and you were not improved, I knew that the role of "bad guy" would fall on me. I had to be the one who spoke the hard truth both to you, my friend, and the rest of the family Edgar, it is not your fault that you started limping and then lost the use of your back legs. As a matter of fact, your spinal problems may have ultimately been the result of abuse when you were little.

You have been a blessing to our family, because you have shown us in so many ways how much you love us for making you a part of our family.

You are now the victim, and you have been punished by your spinal illness long enough. You're a proud animal no longer able to play with our other dogs. No longer are you able to walk or even do your natural bodily functions. We have to abuse your pride and dignity with catheterization just to keep you alive.

I'll be the one to take you on your last ride. With some help, I know you will get in the car with me willingly as you have so many times before. When I look into your eyes, I know you love us enough to trust us with your life. Now I must do a hard thing – I must love you enough to let you go.

At the vet's office, I will be with you at the end. I will play with your fur and sing to you as I look in your deep loving eyes. You deserve the sleep from which you will awaken as a young vibrant pup restfully playing in the arms of your loving Creator.

If we continue to hold you captive to this life, we are only punishing you for something that you do not even understand.

Someday, my dear friend, we will all see you again because, when you become a part of our family, you're family forever.

Robert C. Grupe, Ph.D., is a successful independent network marketing specialist. He's the author of two books: "The Change" and "Creating the Future." Dr. Grupe is the creator and narrator of a nationally syndicated radio commentary series, "Creating the Future," focusing on workplace issues. He has hosted a cable television show relating to business issues as well as a talk show, " The Other Side of Business." on WKY Radio.

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