Bailey was like the Forest Gump of dogs. He was sweet and simple, and never quite right in the head. That’s stems from the abuse he suffered when he was young, before he came to us.

Bailey had been diagnosed with Addison’s disease about three years ago when he was 13, and we almost lost him then, before we figured out what was wrong and got him on meds that completely turned his life around.

I had my boy back.

But for the past several months, you could tell old age was really settling in—he had a hard time walking, jumping up onto the deck was a chore, and sometimes he’d take a tumble here and there. Lately though, he’s been having a problem with his hips, and his back end would slowly dip to the floor. He never vocalized his pain, but he had to be hurting.

So I made an appointment for Saturday to get his back and hips checked out. I guess it was seeing him out of the home environment, where all of this seemed normal and manageable and he seemed happy and content, that made me realize how bad he really was.

I’d been thinking a lot the past couple of months about when that time would come. It seemed impossible to believe it would be sooner rather than later. In some way I had been preparing myself. And I knew it would be my decision to make, not my husband or my vet.

I didn’t leave the house Saturday morning with even a thought of putting Bailey to sleep. But somehow his suffering became clear as we sat in the exam room waiting on the vet. He could hardly stand, he tripped and fell over our other dog, he stood in the corner despondent.

Many months ago I told Bailey that he had to let me know when it was time. I think this was his way of telling me.

My husband and I had a long talk; by the time our vet came in the room it had been decided. We talked with him about it and he agreed. He didn’t think Bailey was in unbearable pain or suffering badly. We all knew we could continue to prop him up with anti-imflammatories and pain medicines, but he’s not going to improve. He is 16-years-old. We cannot be selfish and give him drugs just to keep him around for another couple of months.

I felt like this was the last good thing I could do with him, an act of love to ensure he did not suffer or endure anymore pain and health problems. I wanted him to die with dignity.

My husband mad I have never been through this process. But our vet has helped us raise both of our labs, and couldn’t have made this heartbreaking process go more perfect. He explained every little step.

We decided to stay sitting on the floor of the exam room. The girls brought in a blanket for Bailey to lay on. I had his head against my leg. My husband sat on the bench behind me, and Bailey’s big sis sat next to me. We had spent an hour there loving on him and saying goodbye, but inside I knew I had been saying goodbye for a few months.

Sitting next to me, Jerry began the process. I couldn’t watch the needles, I had to turn my head and focus on hugging one dog and holding onto another as he peacefully slipped away.

I watched my sweet boy die on Saturday. It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever had to be a part of, but at the same time it was peaceful. He was gone physically from our lives, but he was no longer in pain. As we sat around him for 20 minutes or so talking about his crazy life, I kept looking at him and petting his head. He looked like he was finally having the best nap ever, finally getting some much deserved rest.

He was one of a kind, there will never be another Bailey. He will be in my heart forever, and he will always be with us. I know he was with us Sunday night when his sister ended up at the emergency vet. Still watching out for her.