Dying Dog Writes “Goodbye Letter” & Tears Began To Fall
Coping with the loss of a beloved pet is one of the most emotionally draining experiences for any owner. When Texas musician John Pointer lost his 9-year-old dog, Benny, to cancer, the man was overcome with a feeling of emptiness and despair, writes ilovemydogsomuch
In a desperate attempt to process his grief, John penned a farewell letter from the perspective of his dying dog. But he had never expected that his honest words would become a powerful healing force for bereaved pet owners everywhere!
We must warn you – this letter will absolutely crush you. But if you’ve ever loved a dog, it’s worth the pain. So be sure to keep tissues handy before reading below John’s heart-wrenching letter from the perspective of his dog, Benny –
“Yesterday was weird. I couldn’t get myself out of bed. The guy I live with lifted me up. I tried to get my legs under me, but they wouldn’t cooperate. He said, “Don’t worry, I gotcha buddy,” carried me downstairs, and out the front door. That was so nice of him. I needed to pee so badly, I just had to go right there where he put me down. Normally I wouldn’t, but we both decided to make an exception to the rule.
I started walking down the parking lot toward that place where all the dogs like me go to poop. I felt my paws dragging on the ground. “How strange,” I thought. Then suddenly, I just had to go, really badly. In the middle of the parking lot. Normally, I wouldn’t do that. It’s against the rules.
My person cleaned up the mess. He’s good at that. I felt embarrassed, looked at him, and he said, “Want to keep walking, buddy?” I did, but it was surprisingly tough. By the time we reached the end of the parking lot, my head was spinning. I tried to climb the little hill, and nearly fell over. I couldn’t figure out what was going on.
He reached down again, and ran his hands over me. That felt good. He picked me up, and carried me home. I was still confused, and my head was light, but I was glad not to have to walk all the way back. It suddenly seemed like an impossible distance.
I was so glad to lay down on my bed. My person petted me, saying, “I gotcha covered, buddy. I gotcha.” I love the way that makes me feel. I know he does. He makes everything better.
He felt my paws, and pulled up my lip. He said, “Oh buddy, are you cold?” I was. My face was cold, my paws were cold. He texted a few people, and came back to pet me.
A few minutes later, another person arrived. He’s one of my favorites, and his name is Jay. He petted me, and said to my person, “Do you want to get a blanket?” They put a blanket over me, and wow… that felt good. I relaxed, and they both petted me, but they both started to choke back tears.
I never want them to cry, it breaks my heart. It’s my job to make them feel better, and I was just a little tired, and cold. I drifted in and out of sleep, and they were always there, making sure I was okay, and chatting with each other.
Throughout the day, my person made some phone calls, and spent a lot of time with me. I heard him say, “9 am tomorrow… ok… yes… I’ll tell you if anything changes. Thank you Dr. MacDonald.” He called someone else, and said, “I’m sorry, I have to cancel tonight.” Then as I was drifting off to sleep, I think I heard him cry a little again.
In the evening, more of my favorite people came by. They were all so loving. I licked their tears away when they would get close enough to my face. They whispered sweet things in my ear, and told me I was a good boy.
Later in the evening, I felt well enough to stand up and walk to the door to see who was coming in. It was more exhausting than I’d remembered it being, but I loved seeing them all. I heard my person say something like, “That’s the first time he’s gotten up under his own power today.” Everyone seemed glad that I was out of bed. I was too, but wow… after the excitement wore off, it was so exhausting to move around.
After the last visitor left, my person took me outside to do what he called, “my business.” We went back inside and when we reached the bottom of the stairs, they looked twice as steep and ten times as long as I remembered them being. I looked at my person, and he looked at me. He said, “Don’t worry, I gotcha buddy,” and carried me up.
Then it got even better! Instead of sleeping in my bed, he called me up to sleep on *his* bed. Let me repeat: *I got to sleep in the bed with my person!* We normally have our own beds, but last night we snuggled, and it felt so good to be that close to him. I thought, “This is where I belong. I will never leave his side.” I didn’t feel very well though, and it was hard to breathe sometimes.
It seems like it started a few months ago. We were playing fetch and I just blacked out. I don’t know what happened, but I think I stopped breathing. I could hear my person calling my name. I couldn’t move a muscle. He lifted my head, and looked into my eyes. I could see him right there, but couldn’t lick his face. He said, “Benny, are you in there?” I couldn’t respond. He looked at me, and said, “Don’t worry buddy, I gotcha. I gotcha covered.” I started to spin into darkness, but then my lungs took in a deep breath, and I could see again.
We went to see some doctors, and since then I’ve heard a lot of words like, “cardiomyopathy,” “cancer,” and, “kidney failure.” All I know is that sometimes I feel okay, and sometimes… you know… I just don’t. My person gives me pills.
This morning, I heard my person get up and take a shower. He came back in the room, and smelled so nice. He helped me get up, but this time, I could do it on my own. We got to the top of the stairs, and wow… they looked long and steep again. He said, “I gotcha buddy,” and carried me down. I did my business, and we came back inside. He opened a can, a really, really delicious can of wet dog food. Oh man… I love that stuff!
Jay showed up again. What a nice surprise! He and my person seemed concerned, but everyone was petting me. It seemed a little like a play, where all the actors were sad, but pretending to be happy. Pretty soon after that, another person showed up. She was wearing doctor pants, and I leaned on her.
I heard them talk. Everyone looked at my gums, and felt my paws. I heard the doctor pants lady say, “It’s your decision, but he’s definitely in that window. I don’t want to push you, but looking at his lack of color, I am honestly shocked he’s even standing up. In addition to the paws and jowls, look here…” she pointed at my face, “This should be pink. It’s almost white, and verging toward yellow.”
My person and Jay went inside to talk about something. When they came back out, I heard my person say, “I agree. I don’t want to wait till he’s in absolute agony.” So we went inside. Truth be told, I was feeling pretty badly, even though I was up and walking. It seemed like my whole head was cold, my paws were freezing, and my back legs weren’t working right.
The doctor pants lady said, “I’ll just put this into his muscle. It’s a sedative. Then I’ll come back over here, and you can just love on him till he’s asleep.” My person kissed my face, and looked in my eyes. He was trying not to cry. Doctor pants lady gave me a shot of something in the leg. I just looked at my person. He is so awesome. I will always be right by his side.
He and Jay petted me, and said the nicest things – what a good dog I am, what a good job I’ve done, how thankful they are to have me in their lives. After a while, my mind started buzzing. FOCUS! I looked back at my person. I love him so much.
John’s emotional piece beautifully articulates how there’s nothing as pure and sacred as the unconditional love of a dog. No wonder this poignant letter has resonated with millions of people around the world who deeply identify with the trauma that comes with the loss of a pet. This is the one of the best pet tributes we’ve ever read and we hope it reaches any grieving owner who’s truly struggling to move on.
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