I wrote this a year ago as Tank, our first bulldog, was nearing the end of his life. We lost him two days later when he laid down, lifted his head, took his last breath and peacefully crossed over the rainbow bridge. Almost a year later, I still look for my sweet boy before I get out of bed in the morning, as he liked to sleep right by the bed. A habit of 5 years is hard to break. Though he is gone, we often think about him, especially when Coal and Annie do something that was so quintessentially Tank. Rest in peace, sweet boy. You are missed, but your indelible mark will always be on our hearts.

September 21, 2014

“This post below really touched me tonight. Matt and I are facing a challenging time as Tank’s life winds down. We’ve been very blessed to have him with us for ten years. Two years ago, we weren’t sure he’d make it this long, due to a heart condition. We were told that even with meds, his heart could spontaneously stop. So we really began to pay attention to every moment with him. He got special privileges, a new therapeutic bed (that almost seems better than our sleep number!), special treats and toys only for him. And then, last year, quite unexpectedly, we lost Missy Bit. Tank and Coal were broken hearted, but Tank made us think he was going to leave us, too. He missed his sister. He rallied for a bit, but January of this year and a consultation with his cardiologist led to more meds, lots more meds, because his heart was giving out. 13 tablets twice daily, to be precise. Meds he was not willing to take and we were frustrated trying to give him. After an epiphany, knowing that he could still suddenly leave us even with these meds, we decided no more. He did pretty well for an almost 10 year old dog, and for a few months he seemed like his old self. Annie’s arrival in the spring seemed to perk him up for a while. We celebrated his 10th birthday this past June. But lately, he’s begun to slow down. The trip to the vet yesterday revealed an enlarged liver with no discernible cause. The mass we’d seen in his chest last year was bigger, and his breathing has been slightly more labored because of it. He is too old and frail to face further treatments. There is nothing to be done but wait. This is the end. It is agonizing. We will keep him comfortable and watch for the signs our vet suggested that it’s time. But it is not an easy decision, because we are not ready to say goodbye. So our dear, sweet, gentle Tank, instead I will wish you enough. I wish you enough love as you’ve given to us. I hope, sweet pup, that we have given you a good life and been the kind of owners you deserved to have. Thank you for blessing us so much with your kind, gentle spirit. For we have truly been blessed. As much as we want you to stay forever, we understand that you can’t. We love you unconditionally, as you have loved us.

 
“At an airport I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her plane’s departure and standing near the door, she said to her daughter, “I love you, I wish you enough.”
She said, “Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom.”

They kissed good-bye and she left.

She walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her
privacy, but she welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?” ”

Yes, I have,” I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Mom had done for me.
Recognizing that her days were limited, I took the time to tell her face to face how much she meant to me.

So I knew what this woman was experiencing.
“Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?” I asked.

“I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, her next trip back will be for my funeral, ” she said.

“When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’ May I ask what that means?” She began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.”

She paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, she smiled even more. “When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were
wanting the other person to have a life filled with enough good things to sustain them,” she continued and then turning toward me she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory.

“I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish enough “Hello’s” to get you through the final “Good-bye..”

Tank