In a rare breach of our practice of editorial anonymity, and because there is catharsis in giving expression to impending sorrow, I inform my readers of an appointment today I would sacrifice almost anything to avoid.  Our beloved German Shepherd, Jack, with us through innumerable moments since June of 2000, must be put to sleep. 

For those who have found themselves in this position, you know the gnawing anticipation of acute grief that accompanies the days leading up to that fateful moment.  Having suffered this on two prior occasions, once in 1998 when our Rottweiler, Max, died suddenly, and in 2005 when I drove our little Border Terrier, Oscar, to the vet for the same final visit, this is the one part of pet ownership that at once brings us to tears and makes us question how a beneficent God could be so cruel as to have dogs live but a handful of years while some birds live to be ninety.

Many others have written more eloquently than me about the unique bond between a dog and his master, their unqualified love and devotion, their unfailing willingness protect you without any consideration for their own well-being, and the numerous moments of joy seeing them at play.  Over the years Jack, not unlike any affectionate dog, has worked his way into the very fabric of our lives, in hikes in the mountains, in junkets to Colorado Springs, playing in parks, and curled up in front of the fireplace after dinner.

Perhaps the most vexing aspect of the moments we've enjoyed with him as well as our previous dogs, is that despite the manifest happiness they bring and their bright personalities that convince us they can, in fact, speak, is the latent understanding that it can't last.  And, although we are enjoined to focus on the moment, since that's all we truly have, unlike our four-footed friends, our unique gift of self-consciousness includes an understanding of the reality of our own demise.

It's the sharp and beguiling contrast between our dogs, who blissfully live fully absorbed in each moment and the world of humans with our attendant sea of troubles, which dogs seem to bridge for us, so intimate and meaningful is their communication, albeit in a language we struggle to apprehend.

And, as they age and become debilitated, and the date and time when our stewardship obliges us to subvert our awful fear of being the agent of their demise, we feel utterly incapable of helping them, of telling them what they've meant to us.  We run the tape in our minds of the myriad moments and highlights with them and are suffused with pain and tears, while they lie there, about to die, but with complete trust in you, expressing in their uniquely canine way, their love for you.

It's that burden of stewardship, of knowing that his current suffering will only become worse, that there are truly no alternatives, but wanting, just once, to have him fully understand your deep and heartfelt love for him, that cuts to the core of your being.

You may have read the piece below, circulated among pet lovers for many years, but it captures the hope we all have that their death is not, in fact, final, that we will be joined together in a time and way we can never understand, so long as we live.

    The Rainbow Bridge

There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth. It’s called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just this side of the bridge there is a land of meadows and hills and valleys with lush green grass.

When a pet dies, it goes to this place. There is always food and water and warm spring weather. The old and frail animals are made young again. The crippled and maimed become whole. They play with each other all day long. The only thing missing is the special person who loved them on Earth.

So the animals run and play for days on end until, suddenly, one stops and looks! The nose twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are bright and expectant! Quickly, this one runs from the group.

You have been spotted, and when you and your friend meet, you take him into your arms with unrestrained joy. Your face is kissed again and again, and you look into the eyes of your trusted friend who has been waiting for you.

Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated.

So, early this afternoon, my wife, Nancy, and I will have to fulfill our stewardship obligation and take our dear Jack to the vet, on this, his last day on earth.  We can only pray that we'll see him one day on that bridge, along with our other cherished pets.

And, we pray you do as well.