(Originally published 8/14/06 on journalstar.com)

If you’ve ever lived with a really old dog, maybe you’ll understand what I’m talking about. You hope and pray that when the time comes they’ll pass peacefully in their sleep.

I have two dogs, Jack and Maddie. They love eachother, but Maddie is young and Jack’s a happy 4 years past the expected maximum lifespan of a dog his size. The reality of his time being limited is always in the back of my mind.

Last night was cool and breezy. Jack loves that kind of weather so I didn’t worry when he never gave me his usual bark to let me know he was ready to come inside after a few minutes in the backyard. But after a while I suddenly felt panickly about what might be the reason he was so quiet out there.

Maddie saw me approaching the backdoor and pushed between my legs to get one more trip outside for the night. She stopped abrupty in her tracks at the same time as me when we saw Jack.

He was laying on his back right next to the steps, legs straight up and stiff, like the stereotypical dead animal in a cartoon. His eyes were half open.

Maddie whined and scratched to get back into the house. She wouldn’t look at him.

I called to Jack and tried to see some sign of breathing but saw none. This is finally it, I thought. I was thankful it was so peaceful but I felt sad that he had passed away alone outside and wished I had forced him to come inside earlier.

I put a hand on him and he felt warm. I shook him like people shake dead people on the movies telling them to wake up… and after a few seconds, he did.

He was a little disoriented, but otherwise just happy to see me, and a little confused why I was so happy to see him after his nap.

He walked inside, and when Maddie saw him she looked as joyful as I have ever seen a dog look.

I’m spending a lot more time with the dogs now that I work from home. I think we might be morphing into some weird dog/human family that communicates more than dogs and humans ever have before.