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it in my open hand and say, "Here is your feel better num-num" and he would eat it without any problems. One day, that changed. He turned his head several times as I held out my hand with his pills on them. I coaxed him softly, promising a treat after wards. Still, he refused. Tears streaming, the pills went back in the bottle and I headed to the telephone. "He told me it was time," I heard myself say once the vet was on the line. "We are on our way."

Baxter, with my help, got into the car. He couldn't do it himself today. I drove slowly to the vet's office. I pulled into the driveway, but didn't stop. I made a quick u-turn and headed to Dairy Queen. He and I always go an ice cream cone after he went to the vet. Today, we would go before the visit. I didn't know if he knew why there was a change in our routine, but I did. I sobbed out our order of two soft-serve ice cream cones to the voice coming from the metal box. I didn't even wait for my change after I was handed the two cones; I drove off and parked in the first spot available. Ice cream never tasted so awful. Thankfully, Baxter enjoyed his and helped me finish mine.

With over fifteen years experience working with animals, I knew the drill. I had participated in the euthanasia of hundreds of animals myself at the animal shelter where I had worked. I knew the procedure; I didn't just know what to expect once it was finished. I had been present every single time one of our animals had to be "helped," but each time I had a different reaction.

I had to be with Baxter, just as I had for all of my other pets. I had been with him for everything else and I would not leave Baxter alone to face this. I wasn't sure how I would find the strength to be with him, but I knew he could not be alone. I was not going to abandon my Baxter in his last moments.

The clinic's entire staff came to waiting room to say their good-byes to Baxter. He was an office favorite. Hugs and kisses for both of us from everyone. "You two have been so brave," one of the teen-agers who cleaned the kennels said, hugging Baxter and shaking the paw Baxter offered him. This young man had been the one who had so gently moved Baxter when the heavy Basset couldn't get up by himself. There wasn't a dry eye in the building as Baxter and I made our way to the exam room.

The vet and vet technician were waiting. The table was laid out just as I had expected. I remember looking at the needle. It was so ugly and mean looking. I hated that needle, yet I loved

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