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We've just made the arrangements for Buster. Tonight is our last night with him.

We're both wrecks. The pain is very intense.

It's also confusing because Buster, right now, seems happy and well. To look at him, you would think he's totally fine. But glaucoma has no outward symptoms. According to the readings, he'll soon be in serious pain. The surgery doesn't seem like a viable option, given the chances of recurrence and complications, and given Buster's general health. In my head, I know it's the right thing to do. My heart, however...

Here's a story. In all my years with our dogs, through all their health care and surgeries and recoveries, there was only one thing I ever regretted. When our little terrier Clyde got sick, we were away on vacation. We never learned the seriousness of the illness, and didn't come straight home. By the time we returned, she was desperately ill. She was hanging on til we got back. We rushed her to the hospital, and she never came home.

I wasn't there for her. I wasn't there to alleviate her suffering. I let her down.

Everyone told me all the right things, all the things I would tell anyone else. You made the best decision you could at the time, given the information you had. You couldn't have known. You did the best you could. I listened and nodded. But I never really forgave myself. I just lived with it.

That experience colors my view of what's happening now with Buster. If the choices are letting him go a little earlier, before the inevitable pain and suffering (from the glaucoma or from the surgery) begins, or a little too late, once he has already suffered, I can only choose the former. I can't let him suffer.

So. There it is.

I thank you all for your thoughts and prayers and wishes.