y husband and I were together as we talked to our wonderful, compassionate vet and played God, deciding that today was the day for Beau to meet his Maker. What a terrible decision to have to make. He might have lasted days longer or even weeks (my husband is reading over my shoulder and shaking his head--there were no weeks or even days to be had, he is saying). My mind is filled with what ifs related to things we could have or should have done. But most of me knows we did everything we could. And I'm thinking of spending decades or even centuries burying my pets and my friends and my family and wondering whether that would ever be worth it. And I'm asking myself whether we really want to live or is it just that we don't want to die?