Nala was the bestest girl.

Her daddy and our pack loved her very much.

She lived a short but full life. She lived the best life with us.

Regardless of all the nice things I can say, dammit, she was still gone too soon.

Nala was definitely a diamond in the rough, and the kind of dog that I don’t think ever got to live the life she deserved. She was robbed of being a puppy by some level of abuse that those of us who cared for her later in life can only guess at.

Nala had a birth defect that caused her front legs to bow. I can only imagine the levels of pain she experienced as she grew older. Eventually, that pain made her future nonexistent.

And I can’t help wondering how much that same problem—and the behavior caused by her pain—made her an easy target for abuse in her past.

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t cried over the last few days wishing for a better start to her life. Wishing that those who cared for her before me had shown her the same love that I felt for her.

Have I mentioned I’m sick of grieving?

I had hoped this day would be farther away, but alas, it wasn’t.

It really wasn’t always like this.

I saved Nala on what would have been her last day of life in the shelter. I brought her home, and she was with us for three years in her new lease on life.

Her face the day she rode away from the dog pound with me said everything about how happy she was. It gave me hope that she would be just as happy with me.

I know that she was.

Even though it was for a very short time.

After she came to us, Nala completed the AKC Canine Good Citizen certificate, and I had hoped she would become my next service dog. I had high hopes. I had a well-trained new dog who could eventually replace my older service dog when the time came.

She was rapidly picking up not only behavioral cues, but that almost instinctive ability of a service dog to recognize when it needs to intervene.

Damn it, I had hoped beyond all hope that this would work out.

I knew there were pain issues and some reactionary behaviors that needed to be addressed, but I hoped her generally active personality was an indication that all it was going to take was getting her pain managed and getting her through training.

Towards the end, her birth defect began to degenerate. It became obvious from her reactionary behavior that her pain had reached a level I could no longer mitigate.

There was an incident with another dog that I will not go into, except to say that it involved me being bitten by both dogs.

I tried desperately because I knew—and I believed—that Nala was not mean-spirited. I don’t believe she wanted to bite anyone.

She hurt.

I reached out to a Rottweiler rescue as well as the original rescue I adopted her through. After reviewing everything, we realized that she was not going to get better. The rest of her life was likely going to become worse, and rescues were going to be unable to take her because of the risk involved.

There wasn’t another good answer hiding somewhere that I simply hadn’t found.

I cried.

I’ve cried a lot in the last couple of weeks.

My physical wounds are healing. My emotional ones just suck right now.

This is some pretty tough grieving.

Unfortunately, Nala left us on Tuesday.

I laid by her side as she took her last breath.

She was loved by all of us.

She was the bestest girl.

She will be missed more than anyone will ever know.

When it becomes necessary to release a dog from this plane, I will always be there until the last breath because it is the right thing to do.

No one should die alone.

My pack is adjusting to the loss of one of its members.

I have to say that dogs do grieve. Sometimes they grieve remarkably like humans, and sometimes they grieve in ways completely their own.

I always try to provide closure. In this case, I allowed each dog a couple of minutes with her body so they could understand that she had left.

I saw sadness. From one of the dogs, I saw a strange, almost tearful behavior.

They knew.

I love that dog, and I wish I could have helped her live longer.

But there really was nothing I could do that would have made her life better.

Sometimes loving them means giving them more time.

And sometimes loving them means accepting that there shouldn’t be any more.

I am sure my mom was waiting for Nala as she crossed the Rainbow Bridge, there to care for her in the passing and to continue showing her the love she deserved until the time when we are reunited.

You were loved, Nala.

I hope I was the person you needed.

Because you were absolutely the dog I needed.

You were the bestest girl.