A few days ago I had a talk with my daughter, Faith.

It was a tough talk, a talk I wanted to put off, a talk that would make both of us uncomfortable.

But to not have this talk would be worse. This talk needed to take place sooner rather than at the last possible moment.

It was a talk about our dog, Rambo.

Rambo is a black Yorkipoo, who has seen better days. Much, much better days.

And there’s going to be a time, hopefully later rather than sooner, when someone is going to need to “make the call.”

Being that Faith is in college, that someone is probably going to be me.

Uggh!

I do not look forward to this moment, hence the tough talk the two of us needed to have.

I was walking backwards through the house while Faith sat on the couch listening. At first, she seemed to take it all in logically, as I laid out the facts.

But then I sensed the message was hitting her in the heart center. I walked over to her, took a seat, and stroked her upper back with counter-clockwise motions.

Then it hit me, too. The emotion of it all.

Doggone it.

My mom was a nurse. When she told me, whilst I was in college, that she put our dog, Jake, down, it was an emotionless, matter-of-fact discussion.

No biggee.

“Jake’s lungs were filling up with fluid,” mom said. “He couldn’t breathe. He stood next to our bed and wouldn’t lay down. So I got up, called the vet and he put Jake to sleep.”

At the time, as I was ultra-focused on becoming a champion wrestler, I blocked our dog’s passing out of my mind and carried on.

This time around it ain’t so easy.

A dog grows on you.

Rambo was two pounds when we brought him home. Then he got pneumonia and his weight dropped to a pound.

He was much younger then and recovered quickly. He regained his early puppyhood weight, then he got much bigger. Fifteen pounds bigger.

Rambo grew on us.

But now he’s almost blind and doesn’t hear so well. He can’t jump the way he once did, much less run.

His belly is protruding to each side of his ribs. His appetite is up and down.

He’s growing on us, just not the way we wanted to see him grow.

The blessing in all of this… there are too many blessings to recount here, but when that day arrives when the decision must be made, I’ll be glad that Faith and I had our tough talk, in advance.

To get over the eventuality, I know what I’ll be doing. Lots and lots of Dao Zou.

It’s a grief buster, that I know for sure. I’ve used Dao Zou to process a whirlwind of emotions after my parents and two of my brothers passed away.

It’s an exercise tool with benefits that go way beyond the physical. Every time I got a wave of unsettling emotion, I went outside and let the stepping patterns unplug me from it all.

It didn’t take long to regain my composure. Usually within a few hundred steps I’d be feeling much, much better.

I’m rooting for Rambo. I’ll be rooting for him regardless. Then again, I know that every dog has his day, and this one’s days are numbered.

If you’ve never owned a dog or cat, you may not relate, but if you’re a pet lover, we have a bit of shared experience, eh?

Matt Furey