As if I hadn�t already learned this year that life is a cycle and things come and go, our family dog has just been diagnosed with cancer of the spleen with internal bleeding. I called my parents right away when the e-mail landed in my inbox this morning. Poor Megan; she�s always had a delicate digestion, and we�ve always known something was wrong, but these x-rays have finally proved it. She�s eleven, and still puppyish, and a goofball; she loves car rides and going to market and new people; but she has her days where she�s listless and has no appetite. Mum and Dad are taking her round on her daily walk this morning, then they�re going to the vet to say goodbye.

I hate not being able to say goodbye to my family pets in person. Our thirteen year old grey kitty Bo�sun had lung cancer and was put down not too long ago as well, and it ate away at me that I couldn�t stroke her and kiss her one last time. Now Megan the Wonder Dog will be missing the next time I go home as well. I know it�s life, and I know that out of death comes life, and I know that death is not final for any kind of energy; my issue is with the difficulty of closure when you lose someone you love unexpectedly. At nineteen one of my best friends died in his sleep of an undetected brain aneurysm, and apart from trying to make head or tails of the death of a young man in excellent health with a promising future, I struggled with the fact that I hadn�t said goodbye to him. Two nights before he died we had been at a birthday party, and when I left he was engrossed in a conversation, so I didn�t want to intrude to tell him I was leaving. I have always regretted that decision, and it became an obsessive thought in the weeks that followed his death: not only had I not said goodbye to him that night, I hadn�t been able to bid him farewell before his death, either, like everyone else. As a result, I always track down my parent�s pets when I depart to give each of them a kiss and a cuddle, because I never know when I might return to an empty chair instead of a warm cat, a quiet front hallway instead of a dog going insane with joy because I�ve walked through that door.

I told my mother to give the Megatronic Dog a kiss and a pat from me this morning. I�ll say goodbye in my own way tonight. She�s been a good friend, lots of fun, and good for my parents as well since they no longer have a child in the house; she will be missed. After her walk and her car ride today, she will have an endless supply of Snausages and rawhide bones with nary an upset tummy to be seen, many geese to chase, and she will duel and dance with the sprinklers of the Summerlands.