For the last time, I told Fudge, “Good night, old man” as I turned off the living room light.
For the last time, Scott got up early to let him outside.
For the last time, he refused to eat.
For the last time, Sam lovingly annoyed him so much that he came tottering in to find an adult for rescue.
For the last time, he turned around and wandered back outside in confusion, unsure what he was doing inside as soon as Sam left him alone.
For the last time, Caroline kissed his nose.
For the last time, we took his picture.
For the last time, we hoisted his rear legs into the car.
For the last time, we rode with the window down so he could enjoy the breeze, so the reek of his rotting ears wouldn’t force us to pull the car over.
For the last time, we caught him climbing out so he wouldn’t fall. He was so light. Last Thursday, it took two of us to steady him down the hall. Today, I picked him up alone.
For the last time, he lay down on the vet’s cool tile floor.
For the last time, he took a deep breath in and sighed it out.
For the last time.
I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
Although I have added ‘for’ in front of their prompt, I’m linking this one up with the folks at The Lightning and The Lightning Bug, since it was absolutely what I was working with as I wrote.
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.