On the rainy evening of August 14, 2017, Mister Molson’s earthly adventures came to an end.  As a dog family, it was a day we all knew was coming but weren’t truly ready for.  Though I don’t think you ever can be.  He passed peacefully and with a level of dignity that we all can hope for.  He never lost his appetite.  His tail still had some wags.  His eyes could still melt your heart.  Somehow he still seemed to smile.  I’m sure he felt our emotional pain as the waterworks were in full force.  We did everything we could to show him every ounce of love we could manage during his last weekend.

We watched “A Dog’s Purpose” together.

He made two trips to the first spot he ever went swimming as a puppy.  We did a little hiking.  We walked around the neighborhood a couple times.  He got Perrydell ice cream (Peanut Butter Ripple) twice.  

Steve, Jamie, and Otis made him Filet Mignon, Scallops, and a baked potato one night.  He got a bacon and sausage omelet from Lion’s Pride one day.  He even ate a few slices of pizza (not just the crust this time) with us one night.  We met up with our old neighbors Rick and Patty who knew him since he was a puppy.  And just like old times, he walked in, said hello to both of them, and headed into their kitchen.  The next day Chloe cooked him an omelet and pancakes.  Later, he got a NY Strip steak.  Then as the last meal we served him before I took him to the vet, he got Reese’s Chocolate and Peanut Butter Cake.  He ate 1/4 of the cake.  Since he had to stay away from chocolate all his life, I figured we had nothing left to worry about and let him tear into a huge slice.

Chloe impressed me with her wise words over the weekend telling me things like “Don’t be sad yet daddy, he’s still here.  We can be sad later.”  and “He’s not gonna be all the way gone.  He will still be in your heart.”  She would also tell me funny stories about him to make me laugh when she saw me tearing up.  As much as I’ve been trying to be a strong example for the kids, they have been there for me when I need them too.  Watching them say goodbye to Molson before I loaded him in the truck proved that they love him as much as I do.  As much as I hurt, I hated seeing them hurt even more.

As much as my heart wanted more time, I knew in my head that this was it.  My last duty as a dog dad was to help Mister Molson go in peace.  It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  He’s given me everything he has to give for 12 and a half years.

In an unbelievable twist, my phone died the day after Molson did, taking with it the pictures of Molson’s last 2 weeks with us. I’ve tried everything but haven’t been able to recover them. Perhaps it was just bad luck. Perhaps it is one more lesson in letting go. Or, maybe it was a reminder to remember Mister Molson on his best days, not his toughest. I only have the few photos I sent to people who kindly sent them back.

Mister Molson, you will never be forgotten. Your zest for life is an inspiration to so many. The fact that this hurts so badly demonstrates that you did exactly what you were put here to do. You done good buddy. You done good.