"He won't feel any pain," the veterinarian announced to me with a comforting tone, "The procedure will only take a few moments. He will pass peacefully."
I nodded simply to the coat-clad man standing before me while fighting back giant waves of sadness that crashed just beneath the surface of my hardened exterior. I looked down to my companion, his bloodshot, tired eyes catching mine. He sighed weakly, ears drooped and paws splayed out on the check-up table.
"I'll go get the injection ready."
With that, the man was gone. I began running my hand along the uneven fur of my dog's back with gentle strokes. My eyes welled up with tears as I watched his pained face.
"Hello, Terra."
I jumped at the sudden, gravely voice that had just sourced from my dog. I leaped to my feet, the chair beneath me clattering to the floor as I stepped back and slammed my back into the wall behind me. He was watching me intently, as if knowing that this is how I would react.
"You didn't just-"
"Talk. Yes I did," came an answer.
I slowly made my way to the fallen chair, picking it from the floor.
"How long?" I asked breathlessly, my mouth quickly drying.
"Ever since I was a puppy, I knew I had this capability," he answered back with what looked uncannily like a smile.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked, my eyes filling with fresh tears, "All those times I was alone, you could have said something."
My mind began racing, images of him and I playing in my childhood; later life when I attended college and had him live secretly in my dorm, introducing him to my future husband and eventually, our children.
"I didn't want to be some media freak or put in a testing facility for the rest of my short life," he explained.
He broke his gaze with me as he shuddered with a yelp. I placed my hand back on his neck.
"I don't have long," he began, "I knew my time was soon, and that's why I decided to speak now.”
He shifted his weight on the cold steel beneath him with a grunt.
“I just wanted to thank you Terra,” he said, his voice straining, “You raised me with so much love and care in your heart. I was fortunate enough to have you as my caretaker, and I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you have done for me.”
Tears blurred my vision at hearing my dog speak for the first and last time. I leaned over and hugged my companion's neck.
“It can't end like this!” I cried out, disbelief long since dispelled within me, “There's so much more I want to ask you. You've been mine for sixteen years! I never once was able to truly know who you were.”
“You know me more than anyone,” he replied simply, “I love you Terra. Please give your children the kind of love that I have been fortunate to receive from your heart.”
“All right, Mrs. Carter, we will take him from here.”
The voice barely reached me. It sounded akin to a whisper. I continued holding my dog, the outside world denounced and unimportant to my puffy eyes. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“He won't feel a thing, I promise,” the vet's voice rang in my head.
The world turned in slow motion. I watched my dog being taken, his marble-like eyes watching mine the entire while. He said no more, but I witnessed a twitch in his gaze. I made a step after him, to interrupt the event that was about to take place. It was far too much to take in. My mind was blank.
“Goodbye Cedric,” I called out to him, just as the doctor rounded the corner, taking my dog out of sight.
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