Everyone expresses themselves in different ways. It might take awhile for one person to let their thoughts and emotions be heard or seen. Another may wear their heart on their sleeve. It doesnát change the fact that weáre all human.

Iám constantly reminded of this in my own way — and I respond to it in my own way through writing. However, tragedy recently struck my family when my parents took Gizmo, our oldest German Shepherd, to the vet. He started limping one of his back legs in mid-January, showing little to no warning signs of discomfort other than old age.

In fact, thatás what we thought it was — being that he was over 12 years old and survived getting hit by a car on a cold, dark night in 2021. Not only that, but he was left with water on his lung as a result of the accident. My parents were well aware that would affect every vet appointment heád have following the excellent care he received through two different vets.

Things became extremely scary when his limping turned into hopping in the final days of January. It got to the point where Gizmo collapsed almost every time he went outside. We all knew the time had come to make the dreaded call to the vet. It was heartbreakingly the last one.

Gizmo was euthanized the next day, upon the vetás urgent request to see him. I knew this was something my parents always preferred to do by themselves, by his side until the end. Theyáve been through this so many times before, but this one cut deep. I stayed home with Shelby and Dixie, our other two dogs. I didnát know that Gizmo was already gone, but I believe in my heart he said goodbye to me in his own special way.

The vet explained to my parents that Gizmo likely had a weak hip that couldnát be operated on. She also said his other back leg would have gotten worse because it would compensate for his hip — eventually making it impossible for him to walk. My parents broke down in tears, as they had no choice but to say goodbye right in the vetás office.

There was no barking when my mom pulled in our driveway an hour later. Nor was there the usual excitement from our other two dogs. There was only hovering and a lot of whimpering as they smelled their brotherás collar and leash. I instantly knew Gizmo wasnát coming back to us — and couldnát do anything else except burst into tears myself.

In our household, our pets are a part of our family, and Gizmo was more than a dog. He taught us that showing emotion is healthy and the right thing to do. It doesnát make us weak or unworthy. Gizmo may be gone, but his love and legacy lives on.

Erin Kelly, 40, was born with cerebral palsy in Seoul, Korea, and now lives in Altoona. E-mail her at WriterWheels28@gmail.com.