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Ocean’s waves bathed by an orange hue drift gently onto the shore, leaving drops of water and foam in their wake. Seagulls release distant cries in the sky filled with warm colours. A cool yet relaxing breeze blows on the beach, rustling the sitting man’s silver hair as he watches this sunset’s gradual changes.
His pale hand brushes through the dense fur of the dog curled up next to him; Makkachin. He is sleeping soundly without a care in the world. Perhaps in the world he currently sees in his dreams, he truly is carefree, with no pain or hardships to endure. But that is not reality in the real world, away from those calm, pleasant dreams.
Makkachin is undeniably getting on in years. And ageing, as much as you wish would mean no more than you simply being older, is bound to result in health issues. Makkachin had been completely fine for a number of years. Then before they know it, when everything felt as though it had been too perfect, Makkachin was diagnosed with kidney disease.
He is very unlikely to survive his illness. Yet whilst this harsh reality is forever shadowing over them, in times like this, it is hard to remember that Makkachin is ill at all. Whenever he is going through one of the smoother stages of his illness, like he is now, he seems like any other dog. He seems to not feel any pain at all.
Victor loses himself in these thoughts as his fingers trace gentle circles in Makkachin’s fur. How many more sunsets will he be able to see with his best friend? He is grateful that he still has the chance to do so, grateful that Makkachin still has time left with them, yet it is still difficult to not think about what comes after.
The sand is soft enough to quieten the footsteps of the man walking towards him. Yet out of instinct, his head turns, and Victor smiles as his eyes find Yuuri, who has a lemonade in each hand.
“You seemed out of it then,” says Yuuri, leaning down to hand Victor one of the drinks. “What’s the matter?”
The question might as well be rhetorical. These days, whenever the two are lost in thought, they are typically thinking about Makkachin. He means the whole world to them, after all. It is hard to focus on anything else at times.
“I wonder how many more times we’ll be able to do this with him,” says Victor, eyes unable to move away from his hands, which are holding the lemonade on his lap. Yuuri’s eyebrows furrow. He sits down to the left of Victor, the opposite side to Makkachin, wrapping his arm around Victor’s shoulders.
Though the man can be cold at times when he is upset, this moment is not one of them. He gratefully accepts Yuuri’s comforting hold as his head rests against the other’s shoulder. His lips release a breath he has not realised he’s been holding.
“Neither of us can know for sure,” says Yuuri quietly. “But that’s why we have to make the most of every moment, right?”
Victor nods. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. You already had this with Vicchan, and now —”
Yuuri shakes his head, fingers stroking against Victor’s upper arm gently. “You don’t have to say sorry for any of this. I’m just glad that you have the chance to be with him during his last months and give him a proper goodbye.”
“I’ll be making the most of that, trust me.”
Victor’s eyes avert to Makkachin as the latter is stirred from his slumber. He lets out a yawn which makes his owners chuckle, before he is placing his head on Victor’s lap, staring up at them with upset eyes.
It is as though he is saying sorry for the pain he is putting them through, despite how he is to blame for none of this and is the one suffering most of all.
If there is one thing that all dogs learn and become accustomed to, it is everything to do with mealtimes. The clacking of dry food as the box is shaken, the echo of these pellets being poured into a bowl. In fact, even before there is any sound at all, it’s normal for pets to learn when it is time for food. And as soon as you give them that food, they gobble away happily, seeming to never lose the joy of eating something delicious.
Makkachin has forever been the same. Often times, he will take hold of his bowl in his mouth, furry front paws resting against his owners’ legs as he begs through his eyes for more. Sometimes he even does this when he has just eaten, as though Victor and Yuuri have forgotten that he literally only ate his meal half an hour ago.
Or at least, that’s how it has always been. That is why Makkachin feels like a different dog entirely now when it comes to his mealtimes. The loss of excited wags of his tail, the way Victor has to encourage him to eat, because Makkachin would often rather sleep instead. How it is often clearly painful for him to lift his head, never mind actually getting up and walk over to his bowl. His food is usually taken to him instead.
Makkachin has passed that stage where everything seems like it’ll be okay after all. His decline is comparable to happily walking across a ledge before plummeting straight down. There is no denying how much things are getting worse.
“I’m afraid all we can do now is to make the remainder of Makkachin’s life as comfortable as possible,” a vet says to them one day, the terrible day in which they are told that he will never be healthy again. “I do think it will be in your best interests to put him down. While we can ease his pain as much as possible, it won’t be long before we cannot do much for his suffering.”
Neither Victor nor Yuuri can bear the thought of this happening so soon, and as selfish as it may seem, they have made the decision to keep Makkachin alive for a little longer and start his care plan to make his life as smooth as possible.
“I don’t think he wants to go yet,” says Victor, and he is completely right. For Makkachin, despite how dependent he has become, despite how weak and exhausted he is, he still seems happy to be by his masters’ sides. Undeterred by the fact that he is dying, he still does all he can to wag his tail, smiling at them with loving eyes.
Much like Victor and Yuuri, he too loves them too much to let go, this love keeping him alive.
But an emotion can only take you so far. Disease has no care at all for emotions, and soon, it will prevail regardless of how strong your mind is.
“Come on, boy,” Victor murmurs, urging Makkachin to drink his water. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, but please, at least drink something.”
Makkachin glances up at Victor with tired eyes. His fur as thinned as of late, the thick, healthy curls nowhere near as full of life as before. Everything about Makkachin seems to show his suffering.
With Victor’s fingers running through the fur on his head, Makkachin does eventually start lapping the water. Although he only takes a few sips before he is lying on his side. His ribs raise too slowly and softly than it should, his breaths weak, and Victor finds his resolve beginning to break.
He might not be turning completely away from water yet, but he would not be drinking it at all without Victor, and that is a red flag in itself.
Yuuri watches on, unsure of what to say or do. He knows how this feels. Yet he is coming to the same realisation as his husband, and he has never had to be put in a situation where he himself has to say something which seems so horrid.
But for both Makkachin and Victor, he knows that he has to.
“Victor,” he says quietly. “Can we talk?”
Seeming to know what Yuuri is already going to say, he remains motionless and silent. He only breaks this by nodding, and not wishing to disrupt Makkachin, he follows Yuuri out of the kitchen and to the living room.
Silence. Despite being the one to initiate conversation, Yuuri has no idea on how to begin. He already feels suffocated by the tension in the air.
He decides that just like how Victor has spoken to Yuuri in the past, there is no use in sugar-coating anything.
“I think we should put Makkachin down,” he says. He manages to speak at a clear volume, but there is an undeniable shake to his voice, tears welling in his eyes.
Victor’s teeth runs over his bottom lip. He is unable to look at Yuuri. “I can’t do it.”
“Victor, we have to.”
“It’s not fair on him,” Victor persists. Despite how a single tear has trickled down Yuuri’s cheek, Victor doesn’t cry himself; he forces his own tears back out of anger. “It’s not right to decide on how he dies.”
Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s even more unfair to force him to suffer when he doesn’t have to.”
“So you expect me to just let him die?!” Victor’s voice raises to a shout, startling Yuuri. “Even worse, I’m expected to kill him myself? I can’t just let them take away his life like that!”
“I know it’s difficult. I do. But … But he’s going to die no matter what we do. I don’t want him to keep on living in pain when we can stop that.” Yuuri inhales deeply, the back of his hand wiping at his eyes. “I think it’s for the best. And … I-I think it’s selfish to force Makkachin to live for our sake.”
Victor stares silently at Yuuri, tears streaming down his cheeks in a tranquil rage. “Playing God with his life is better than that? What right do we have to decide if he lives or dies? Why do we —”
A choked sob interrupts his words. He opens his mouth to speak, yet his throat closes up. A trembling hand reaches up to his face, concealing his eyes as his shoulders convulse from another sob.
Without a second thought, Yuuri rushes over and rises up to wrap his arms around Victor’s neck. The other’s face immediately rests into Yuuri’s shoulder. There, he no longer holds back his sobs. He howls as his hands grip onto the back of Yuuri’s T-shirt tightly, so much so that his knuckles turn a harsh white. Tears beginning to stream down his own face once again, Yuuri’s grip grows a little tighter, able to feel Victor’s trembles.
Yuuri agrees, in a way. He doesn’t want to see Makkachin die either. He also feels as though it is not their right on whether he dies or not and has considered the option of letting him go naturally. But this is why advances have been made, so that these beloved animals, true members of your family, can drift off to rest peacefully and painlessly.
“I know it’s for the best,” Victor gasps out. “I do. It’s just not that easy.”
“I understand, Victor. And I’m not asking you to make any decisions right now. We can think over this and talk over it some more.”
Despite these words, the head which leans against Yuuri’s shoulder shakes. Victor rises up to his full height, gently prising Yuuri’s arms from him. He swallows, face red and blotchy from the tears which are still brimming in those sapphire eyes.
“I’ve been thinking we should too,” he says, voice cracking. “Yet I’ve been finding it hard to accept, which is why I yelled at you. I’m sorry.”
Yuuri shakes his head. “It’s all right, I understand. You’ve had Makkachin for so many years already. He’s your family, and I wouldn’t expect you to let him go easily. Neither will I.”
A gentle hand is placed on Victor’s shoulder. It guides him over to the sofa, where the two settle down next to each other. Yuuri reaches for a box of tissues placed on the coffee table, taking one out for both himself and Victor. The latter thanks him, wiping at his eyes and blowing his nose. His eyes glisten even now. Yuuri would hardly blame him if he began crying all over again.
“So what do we do?” says Yuuri. Victor inhales deeply, the tissue crumpling in the hands resting on his lap. You only have to look at his face to see how his mind is racing.
“I know that Makkachin wouldn’t hate us if we kept him alive,” says Victor. “Even now while he’s in pain, he’s still as loving as he’s always been and he’s even happy. I think if we were to hold onto him, he’d understand, and he’d appreciate having more time to spend with us.”
“But?” says Yuuri, able to detect from Victor’s tone that this isn’t all.
“But I also don’t think he’d hate us if we were to let him go.” Victor’s voice is now several tones quieter. A single tear once again drops from his eye. “I think he’d be grateful, in a way. Even if he wants to spend longer with us, I also think that he might be ready. He knows that it’s his time and that there’s no going back now. And … he’s been suffering for so long already.”
“I know,” Yuuri says quietly. He reaches for Victor’s hands, taking one of them to hold in his own. He slowly brings it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss onto it. “And I agree. But you’ve known him longer than me, even if the three of us have been together for a long time already. It’s your choice.”
Victor nods, his spare hand running over a damp forehead and through his hair. He no longer tries to hide his tears at all. Perhaps it helps that Yuuri, who truly does love Makkachin as well, has eyes still full to the brim with tears as well.
“I can’t say yes to it just yet,” he says eventually. “I need to talk to the vets first and … and have more time to say goodbye. Is that all right?”
Yuuri nods, giving Victor’s hand a small squeeze. “Of course it is. I knew you’d need that, especially after I sprung this on you so suddenly.”
“Like I said, I’ve been thinking about this too, so it’s all right.”
A silence falls over the two. The air is luckily no longer tense, yet anxiety and grief still consume them, unable to stop thinking about how they will get through what is to come. Yuuri breaks this standstill with actions rather than words, scooting up closer to Victor and leaning his head on the other’s shoulder.
“No matter what, you’ll make the right choice, because Makkachin will love you either way.”
Victor swallows, these words both appreciated yet also adding to the painful lump in his throat. For a moment, he cannot reply. Not when his mind has found itself drifting off into thinking about all of the moments which Makkachin has truly shown his love.
If anything, however, these memories help Victor to realise how much he wants to give back to Makkachin for all that love. He wants Makkachin to leave this world as calmly and with as much love as possible.
No words are able to be said as Victor carries the still form of Makkachin in his arms. Sleeping, with his tail gently swaying, you might not guess that Makkachin is ill. So ill that it is the day for him to leave this world.
Perhaps it isn’t just emotion that stop Victor and Yuuri from speaking at all as they follow the veterinary nurse to a private room. Both of them are also finding that their minds are taking them to the past.
Victor remembers how much Makkachin has always been there, ever since Victor was a young teenager. His time growing up had never been as smooth and free of struggles and anguish as one might think. Yet through it all, Makkachin is the one soul who has never changed. He helped bring Victor through his adolescence and has remained with him ever since.
When Victor cries, which he does so much less these days, Makkachin will gently whimper and slide his face underneath Victor’s arms. He looks up at Victor, as though to say, “I’m here for you.” His eyes, though bearing sorrow, fill with love. His fluffy tail wags and brings a sign of hope.
When you laugh, Makkachin almost seems to do the same, his mouth bearing a smile as he bounces in circles, even letting out a small bark at times, despite how poodles never usually bark much at all. He seems to experience every emotion you feel and bases his own joy off your own.
It has only been two years since Victor and Yuuri moved in together with Makkachin, focusing more on their relationship and time at home rather than their careers. This time is only fleeting in the grand scheme of life. However, the joy that they have experienced with Makkachin by their side has been insurmountable. They’re two of the happiest years of their lives. And though a grand part of this is how much they enjoy their marriage, they can also thank Makkachin for the enjoyment of their lives.
“Place Makkachin down here,” says the veterinary nurse. Despite how she must deal with this frequently, during all this time, she has given nothing but support and sympathy. Her hand gently strokes through Makkachin’s fur after Victor does so.
“You’re going to be okay,” Victor says softly now that Makkachin has woken. Victor rubs Makkachin’s ear, swallowing when Makkachin weakly licks at his hand. “I promise. You won’t have to suffer anymore.”
“It definitely doesn’t hurt?” Yuuri asks, his hand rubbing Victor’s shoulder. The vet nods her head.
“Not at all. All he’ll feel is a slight pinch, then it’ll be just like falling fast asleep.”
Perhaps it would even be faster and easier than falling asleep, but then again, Makkachin has always been a heavy sleeper. He has commonly slept by Victor’s side all of these years, and is unusually not very alert during his slumber. Sometimes, it seems like he is a huge puppy despite being eighteen-years-old.
“You’ve really lived a long and happy life, haven’t you?” says Victor, a tear trickling down his cheek. His eyes find the vet who is now preparing Makkachin’s leg for the IV; they have previously discussed their course of action, and due to Makkachin’s good behaviour, lack of anxiety and his sickness, they have decided against using a sedative first.
“He has,” Yuuri agrees, stroking Makkachin’s head alongside Victor. “I’m sure he’s ready to go.”
Makkachin’s eyes open partially, as though to confirm this. Victor bites his lip, watching as the nurse prepares the pentobarbital. There’s a small part of him that wants to scream at her to stop. But there has been enough discussions, enough waiting, that this is finally the right moment.
It’s time to say goodnight.
The process is quicker than one would expect. It is barely two minutes before Makkachin has slipped from this world. No words or movements are made to begin with. It is only until Victor begins to sob, hugging Makkachin’s lifeless body to him that the silence is broken.
With a pained expression, the nurse places a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Take your time,” she says, before leaving the room to give them privacy.
Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor, pressing a kiss on top of the head buried into Makkachin’s fur. “He’s no longer suffering now, Victor,” he says quietly. “And I’m so proud of you for doing this.”
Victor’s head lifts from Makkachin, nodding as his fingers continue to trail through Makkachin’s fur.
“I know it was the right choice,” he says, which despite the tears on his face, brings relief to Yuuri, to know that there is no regret in their decision.
Their heads turn at the sound of a knock on the door. Entering the room is not the nurse, but rather Yuri, who came along for the moral support.
“Yurio,” says Yuuri. He is surprised that moments later, Yuri is taking both of them into his arms. This show of affection is so rare by Yuri that it causes both to freeze, yet they are soon to embrace him back, feeling a rush of love run through them.
“I know how it feels,” he says. His voice is a little strained, as though he is trying not to cry himself. “It’s going to get easier. I promise.”
These simple words say far more. It helps them to truly believe that one day, they will be able to think of Makkachin without risking tears. They know that this is what Makkachin would want; for those he loves to move on with hearts stronger than ever.
Losing one life can never stop time from moving. Soon, it is almost a year since they lost Makkachin.
Victor and Yuuri are not the only ones who miss this beloved dog. Before his passing, everyone had been able to say their goodbyes. And even after, they still think about him and cherish the joy he brought everyone.
Because no matter who you are or what your connections are to Victor, Makkachin had been able to touch your heart in some way. Making others smile seemed to be what Makkachin did best. And not only was he incredible at it, he always seemed to love bringing you joy, too.
His death has brought a lesson to everyone about how valuable the lives of pets can be. They are as important to your family as any human, the bonds you create real, with memories that will last a lifetime. Their lives complete your own and their deaths leave you feeling lost.
Yet that will not last forever. Victor and Yuuri know that one day, when they truly feel ready, they will own a dog together once again, one which will adore the children they plan to adopt. They will have that family back once again. They know that this is what Makkachin wants for them. They know that a day will come when they fall in love with a dog all over again.
For now, the little hamster given to them by Phichit is enough until they are ready. After losing Makkachin, this little life is cherished, and though they know it will be short, they will make sure that it remains happy throughout all of it.
Because death doesn’t mean that things have to end. It can be the birth of something else, a newfound strength and appreciation for those around you.
They can only thank Makkachin enough.