He had no name. He was just a dog. Dying alone while humans, oblivious to his pain and fright, walked around him. A few stared and pointed at his skeletal body that could not move except to twitch. But they kept moving, on their way to wherever the vision of suffering was out of their reach.

When our gentle hands found him, they gave him what he needed then. Warm relief. Somehow he knew what we knew: Do not expect anything more. His fate was already sealed. We had only just met this sweet being, but now we needed to surrender to what must come next.

We would end his suffering by taking his life before his starving organs could cause more agony in his wracked body. No one would miss him….but then, no one would ever again stomp on his spirits or deliver unwarranted pain to his body. He would be free of a life of Hell.

We carried the broken body to my truck while workmen who had watched him wither cell by cell for the past weeks stared at us. Perhaps they were a bit ashamed for not having taken even a step of prevention for the dying dog. None wished him well. He was merely garbage being taken to the dump.

At our clinic, Casa Lupita, we watched as our veterinarian administered the injection that would end the pain and blot out memories of a brutal life. We stayed until the last breath was taken. I hoped that he somehow felt our love and compassion during his last moments on our Earth.

I tried to transcend my love to him as I watched him slip away, hoping that somehow he knew if things were different, he would be mine and be loved for many more years.

Instead, I can only share the end of his sad life with you. I hope that his memory will be a force to keep us going in our drive to better the lives of every homeless animal within our reach. Remember him. He is nameless. But he is precious.


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Donna and Friend

Donna Tabor blogs about life in Nicaragua.

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