I had to put my Lou, my first puppy ever, to eternal sleep this week. And of course, I went home and defaulted to my lineage's inherited modus operandi to cope with unspeakable tragedies: reminded myself that my ancestors had been through far worse and then proceeded to be as productive as I could to distract from the sorrow.  

But surprisingly, no matter how many loads of laundry I washed or how spotlessly I scrubbed the floors and windows, I could not "productivity" away the sharp pangs in my chest or the random bursts of uncontrollable sobs.  What did assuage some pressure from the invisible clenched fist that was unforgivingly gripping my heart were these consoling wise words from Scott Galloway's "The Algebra of Happiness":

"Give Someone a Good Death: Provide comfort to those you love at the end of their life as it is satisfying and will be cherished forever."

And I wistfully contemplated back to Lou's final hours leading up to her last second. We spent 3 hours outside the vet's office, just prancing on the freshly cut grass, barked at passing cars, ate our last meal, and cuddled and napped under the warm sun - all Lou's favorite activities.  The weather was serendipitously a beautiful 75-degree summer day, gentle breeze brushing her soft white fur and tickling her floppy ears, as if Mother Nature too wanted to cooperate and give us the best last day ever.  For 3 hours, we were forever young.

Then she fell asleep in the vet's office, tightly held close to my chest to the last second, and the last sound she heard was my trembling voice singing her favorite lullaby: "You are my sunshine/My only sunshine..."

I don't think I have found myself on the other side of this algebraic equation to find the "happiness" yet. Nothing will ever be a happier mathematic solution than to have my Lou back. But I am grateful that Scott Galloway's wisdom kept me grounded and comforted me in the fact that even though I couldn't save Lou, every single day of her life was lived like a princess, she went out like a princess, and even up to her last second, we were forever young.