CW: Animal death

Tuesday, midnight, and the dog is barking.

He is waiting in the kitchen. He can barely hear you. He can only see you in blocks of shadow. He’s panting. Place your hand on the back of his neck-just above the his collar, so that he knows you are there. Ruffle his fur gentle and hold him under his stomach so that he can stand upright. Try not to notice the way his course fur falls out in your hand.

With support, he stumbles to his favourite rug. Ease him down slowly. Ignore the way that his breaths stutter and catch. Make sure your hand never leaves his neck. He has to know that you’re there. Pull the water bowl from aross the room. Get a droplet on your finger and hold it to his tongue. Remind him how to drink.

Make sure that you talk to him. Read him stories, whisper to him about your day, apologise for what he has become; anything in your voice will calm him down. Tell yourself that he still hears. Convince yourself that he still understands.

Let the dog rest his chin in your palm. You will not be sleeping. Listen to his futile breathing. Count each gasp as proof that he is alive. Watch him calm.

Remind yourself that there is nothing you can do. Promise into his ear that you won’t make him do this alone. Remember the nights that the two of you spent together on the floor of your brother’s childhood bedroom after he moved away. The air still feels the same: a limbo between stages of life.

Be careful not to wake him as you crawl between his paws. Feel the warmth of his fading fur and heavy breath. Ignore the smell of death. Watch his breathing until morning to make sure that he doesn’t die in the night. Hold each other like puppies.