It’s 12:03 AM: outside of the glass windows and door of the vet is blackness, only interrupted by the streetlights of the parking lot and the light emitting from other various buildings on the campus.  The only sound inside this place is the sound of my foot repeatedly bouncing up and down against the floor.  I need to know how she is doing.  The guilt is killing me, and tears won’t stop running down my face.  I don’t want to make the choice I know I’m gonna have to make: the thought alone of having to do so horrifies me--it brings a certain weightlessness to my stomach that is indescribable.  Willa is the only thing keeping me up, she is the only thing keeping out of the darkness that is on the verge of consuming me.  Willa--my dog for only 4 years now--was a gift from my wife: she gifted me her when she was informed that she fought hard, but the cancer was going to win.
I’m trying so hard to take the blame off myself.  I try to tell myself there was no way I could have seen her.  Only if I had just taken a second to look around the car, I wouldn’t be in this shitty situation.  But I had to be in such a rush.  As my mind keeps wandering the tears start coming faster.
It’s 1:12 AM: the vet comes out and says he can keep her alive, but it will be a painful life for her; or I could could choose to put her down.  He suggested  that I put her down.  As I was letting this information settle in, I put my face in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut: I tried to imagine I was somewhere else--I tried to think of how, after tonight, I could possibly live a happy life.  This is exactly what I was so damn afraid of.  If I have to put this dog down, the last living memory of the love of my life, I might just put myself down as well.  The veterinarian decides to let me think on my decision for a bit, and tells me he will come out and check on me in 10 minutes.  After he left, all I could think about was how life has not been treating me well.
I finally decide I’m going to put her down: I couldn’t handle the guilt of this poor dog suffering just so I can be a little more emotionally stable. 
I go in to say goodbye, and caress her soft golden hair one last time.  Willa is staring me right in the face, and I stare right back at her.  Of course she is wearing the cutest puppy-dog eyes.  She has no clue what’s going on, and I know everything that’s about to happen.  I start to cry so much, and so hard, that I can no longer keep my mouth closed and my collar is drenched.  Why does this have to be happening?  Why does everything I love have to go?
It’s probably 2 AM by now.  I don’t know, it has been a while since I’ve checked the time; and Willa is no longer with us--she’s moved on.  I no longer have any reason to stay at the vet, and it’s time for me to leave.  In absolute silence, I walk out the glass door and go to the parking garage located at the end of the streetlight-lit parking lot where I had parked.  I take the elevator up to the roof of the garage: 4 levels higher than where I parked.  I walk out of the elevator to the edge, and stare at all of the lights beneath me.  Everything was so quiet, so motionless--it seemed as if the whole world was mourning with me at this moment.  Staring down at all of the lights below, I let the breeze of this silent night kiss my face, and I close my tear-filled eyes.