Letter to a Veterinarian

Dear Doctor,

I’ve been thinking about you even though you might not know who I am. I can only imagine the number of pets and owners in your care. Maybe you remember a corgi coming to your office. Maybe not. They all look the same. But not really. Not if you loved one.

I’m writing this because I remember you. I remember all of our visits to your office, even though they were far and few between. I’m lucky. My Lulu only needed a few appointments during her eleven years with your practice. She was a healthy dog. That is, until she wasn’t. Of course, there was the time she ate a bowl of M&Ms. Or when she had that strange odor, and you had to remove an unsightly lump from her cute derriere.

I’m sure when you attended vet school, they taught putting down animals as part of the job. It’s too bad pet owners don’t get this same schooling. We have to deal with the end-of-life stuff in our clumsy way. Like asking you when it’s the right time, even though we already know the answer. I suppose we need to hear that it’s best for them, when really it might be best for us. I’m sorry for that, and thank you for your ability to treat a cat, a puppy, and a dying dog all in a day’s work.

We went to your office today, and my Lulu went to Heaven. All dogs go there, so they say. I pray they are right. I pray I get to see her there someday. I pray my baby remembers she was a good girl. I pray for you tonight, too.

Godspeed.