I often stay late to catch up on admin stuff during the quiet of the evening, but today the walls of my clinic echo with the heavy silence of loss. It’s a silence that reverberates through every corner, a stark reminder of the emptiness left behind by Kibbler’s passing. There are no words of comfort to offer, no silver linings to be found—only the raw, unyielding weight of grief that settles like a stone in my chest.

I euthanized Kibbler today. It was time. It was not too late. It was not Kibbler wasn’t just another patient to me; he was a beloved companion of a client that have grown fond of. Her faithful friend whose presence brought light and warmth died under the enfluence of my injection. His absence now is a gaping wound, a reminder of the fleeting nature of life and the pain that comes with letting go.

As I stood by his side, administering the final injection that would bring an end to his suffering, I felt the weight of grief pressing down on me like a physical force. It wasn’t just the loss of a beloved patient that weighed on my heart—it was the knowledge that his passing would leave behind a void that could never be filled.

And for the widow left behind, Kibbler’s absence is a cruel twist of fate—a reminder of the love she has lost, the loneliness that now threatens to consume her. There are no words to ease her pain, no gestures to offer solace—only the cold, harsh reality of grief that stretches out before her like an endless abyss. Kibbler was a gift from her long dead husband.

I can’t help but worry for her, knowing that she now faces the daunting task of navigating life without her faithful companion by her side. Without family nearby and few friends to lean on, she is left to grapple with her grief alone, the weight of sorrow threatening to crush her spirit.

In times like these, hope feels like nothing more than a distant memory—a fleeting whisper lost in the howling winds of despair. There are no happy endings here, no silver linings to cling to—only the harsh, unforgiving truth of loss that hangs heavy in the air.

As I navigate the days ahead, I find myself consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. There is sadness, of course, for the loss of a beloved companion and the end of a journey that had spanned nearly two decades. But there is also anger—a burning rage that simmers just beneath the surface, fueled by the injustice of a world that allows such pain to exist.

It’s a raw, unfiltered grief—one that defies explanation, one that threatens to swallow me whole. And yet, in the midst of the darkness, there is a flicker of something else something primal and powerful that refuses to be extinguished.

It’s the knowledge that, despite the pain, despite the sorrow, life goes on. And though the road ahead may be long and wrought with obstacles, I will continue to walk it with my head held high, carrying the memory of Kibbler and all the animals who have touched my life.

For in the depths of grief, there is a strange sort of beauty—a reminder of the depth of our capacity to love, to feel, to mourn. And though the pain may never truly fade, it is a testament to the richness of the human experience, the fragile beauty of our existence. I hope Kibbler’s mom can find some of that beauty of emotion to carry her.