For about the last month, it felt like Ziggaro was stuck in between here and somewhere. I knew all summer that when the season changed he would too. I cried when the leaves first started to fall. I even talked with him about it, reminding him how we had the best summer ever together and that I knew he was tired like the forest leaves around us. And that it was okay.

During that month he wasn't unhappy or in pain, but he wasn't his happy go lucky self either. He just kind of was. His belly was upset more often than I'd have liked and he all but stopped eating. The doggie dementia had definitely set in and his sight & hearing were no longer good. But, he still wagged his tail and enjoyed our company immensely, went outside to the bathroom, begged for our food, and wandered about the downstairs or our office to check on things.

He was just old. And dying. Many of the checklists on the internet say it's time to call it quits at that point (because you know, the internet should definitely be the dictator of when the time is right to euthanize your best friend). But really, was it time? Not for us. I can't even begin to count the number of times people told me it was time to let him go this year. And sometimes, I felt that way too. I questioned & doubted myself at least weekly. Truthfully, there were five occasions that we came really, really close to putting him down. I am so thankful that we didn't because I would have missed out on some of the happiest memories we ever made.