Forever and Ever

Two years ago I lost my Chihuahua, Apollo.

He was eighteen years old and in bad shape.

Blind, emaciated, weak and losing more hair

than usual. It was his time to go, although

still, he was tenaciously hanging on to life.

Not wishing to see him suffer any longer,

I had him euthanized. It is, I guess, what we

as compassionate and responsible humans are

supposed to do. He, as a strong-willed living

creature instinctively clung to every last

second of life no matter how painful it was.

No matter how bad things are, it’s what

animals are instinctively built to do. For

them, there is no concept of illness or health,

no ideology of devils or gods, no joy or fear

of heaven or hell. Life and the hereafter are

now, every minute, every day, every breath

taken, only the here and now.

We humans with our misguided intellect and

farcical notions and bogus beliefs in something

inevitably better awaits us around the bend.

For us, it’s the promise of forever and ever

without end.

I admire the dogma of dogs which happens

to instinctively be—survive no matter what

comes. This is it, all I have. I shall live by that.

There is no other way it was meant to be.

I had Apollo put to sleep because I felt his

pain and was an insufferably weak and

fearful human being. What else was I

supposed to do?

It was then with Apollo’s last breath, I realized, he

never once rationalized, scrutinized or apologized. 

And each breath of mine became more meaningful

to me. Thank you, my friend. Good boy, Apollo.

Good bye.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 1-20-2022