August 18, 2014 was a day I expected to be filled with the typical response I had heard since the day I was born: “Happy birthday!” I was turning seventeen, one year closer to adulthood. It was a day I expected to go to school and have my friends give me deliciously filling cupcakes, sweet cookies, and giant, colorful poster board cards filled with memories s within its bright and cheery corners. Instead, on that quiet August morning I said goodbye to my best friend Lucy.

My family adopted Lucy from a rundown farm in rural Mississippi when I had just entered preschool. From day one, we had instantly taken a liking to one another. More than anything, she was my dog. Throughout her long life she had given our family unexplainable joy in the form of priceless and touching memories. At the end of a long and hard Sophomore year, I expected a relaxing and fun summer filled with long walks and lots of frolicking in our pool. However, Lucy was instead diagnosed with terminal cancer. At age twelve, this was not uncommon but the news still sent shockwaves through our family. Our vet, who also happens to be my godfather, said that she would not live for more than two weeks after her diagnosis. In the end, he was proved wrong when she beat the odds and her fragile body carried on for three months longer than her expected prognosis. What was once hoped to be an enjoyable summer quickly proved to be a seemingly endless nightmare. Every time I left the house, I worried that she might die while I was away from her. My mind was constantly wrestling with anxiety as the months passed by and only grew more severe as the school year opened.

The warm, cozy sheets of my bed fought me to stay entwined in it as I attempted to wake up for school. I normally expected Lucy to quietly ease her way into my room and gently lick my hand. When I woke up that morning and my faithful companion was nowhere to be found, I knew instantly that something was wrong. I rushed down the stairs at lightning speed and found her lying on the ground, whining and groaning in pain. The moment I had dreaded for an entire summer had finally arrived. The vicious cancer which had ripped her body to shreds finally won its battle. With a shaky voice, I informed my parents of my discovery and within minutes, Dr. Chris arrived at the front door. His eyes were painted with sadness just   the rest of us. It became apparent that he dreaded this heart wrenching moment just as much as we did. Dr. Chris gave us the choice to give her morphine to numb her agonizing pain and we would put her down the next day. My parents said that they did not want to put Lucy to sleep on my birthday, a day once designed to be filled with quality family time and the joy of turning one year older. Already there were presents wrapped in colorful paper with bright and festive colors with my name on them. I agreed to this plan wholeheartedly. I thought it could give me some time to collect myself and fully accept the painful reality that stared me in the face. However, I saw the painful eyes of my best friend of twelve years. In a way, she was begging to be let go and to be free from the suffering she endured. How could I be so selfish? The inner conflict I had experienced was now at a startling crescendo. I knew in my heart that I could not truly accept this flawed compromise. Incoherent sobs ripped through my body as I came to this conclusion. Despite this so called “special day”, it was time to end Lucy’s agonizing pain and free her from her suffering.

Just as Dr. Chris stepped out of my doorway, I asked him to go get the necessary medical supplies to put her to sleep. “Why?” he asked me. “Today is your birthday. I know you don’t want to do something like this right now. This is difficult choice for you to make, especially today of all days,” I shook my head and with tears in my eyes I responded to his sympathetic and understanding words. “I know this is hard, but it is the right thing to do. I can’t have a good birthday knowing the kind of pain she’s in.” Together we went inside and informed my parents of the painful decision that I had made. As Dr. Chris left the house in a rush to get his medical supplies, we said our painful last goodbyes. Moments later, Dr. Chris arrived back at our home. Lucy’s head was rested in my lap as he injected the clear liquid into her frail and bony arm. With a heavy sigh, Lucy’s heart stopped and she calmly breathed her last breath.

For the rest of the day, our house was filled with an eerie silence that further heavied my already broken heart. The only comfort that I could provide for myself was knowing that she was surrounded by unconditional love in her final days and for many years before that. When Lucy died, a piece of myself went with her. However, in many ways she has not died at all. Lucy gave me some of the best memories I will treasure for the rest of my life. With her as a constant companion throughout childhood and into my late teenage years, I learned to become a gentle and compassionate human being along with lots of laughter and fun along our journey through life together. It is because of this that I know that the choice I made was the right one in not letting her suffer. Though she lived just a short while, it was the quality in her life that mattered not just the quantity and I am forever touched by her presence in my life.