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Two-hundred feet from the place you put your best friend to death
is a yoga studio, and a coffee shop, and a place that repairs vacuums.
In pet terms, euthanasia isn’t as detrimental as it sounds.
You say “put to sleep” and “eased of his misery” much easier than you might say
“terminal cancer that left his jaw agape, unable to eat food or function on his own.”
It’s these reasons, and that much more, which will force you to come closer than 200-feet from the place where he left this earth,
to leave flowers and apologize yet again on the first anniversary of his death.