Thanks goes to Adeleidhis and Eldhoron for their ideas and for helping me roleplay this chapter and the next one. So, here is the end result. :)

*.*.*

Frodo impatiently looked out the parlor window. Where was Doctor Henson? Where was Sam? It had only been five minutes, but surely, they remembered him and Chester! They must have! Otherwise, why would he let Sam send out his letter to the doctor?

Chester whined. He relaxed on his fluffy bed once more. The little warmth that lay in the fireplace gave off a soothing heat. Frodo sighed. His dog was doing fine, but honestly, he looked ready to go.

"Sam, where are you? Sam!" Frodo called out to the air. He paced back and forth. Hot fury raged inside his heart. He wasn't usually this impatient, but he knew what death and dying felt like. They were horrible! And he experienced it with Sam's dog Spruce when he was put down. Even Sam knew this! Oh, Frodo couldn't help but remember it now!

Frodo stammered through the door to Number 4 Bagshot Row. There was Doctor Henson with a bowl filled with dog food containing a strange mixture. There was Sam with his grey and white malamute Spruce. The dog was lying in his bed, helpless.

No. What were they doing?

"What are you doing? What's going on? SAM!" Frodo cried, as Sam held him back.

"I don't like it either, but this must be done," Sam said, trying to calm him.

"But Sam, your dog—"

"He lived a good life," Doctor Henson, the hobbit with ginger, curly hair, set the bowl of dog food next to Spruce's bed. "Here you go."

The malamute ate the food as best he could. As he did, he eventually stopped, giving out a long sigh, and then drawing his last breath. No! He was gone.

Frodo could hardly believe it. What had he witnessed? Death? Death was the answer! It was the only thing that made sense! But how? Why did this have to happen?

"Sam, he killed him! He killed Spruce!" Frodo cried in bewilderment.

"I had to put him down," Doctor Henson sighed, regretting his decision. "I'm sorry, but he's gone."

"NO!" Frodo cried, unsure what to believe….

….He snapped back to reality. Tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't want to think back on that memory, but he knew it was there. Haunting him! He returned his gaze to poor Chester, who seemed worn down.

Maybe the best thing to do was to comfort him.

Frodo made his way back to his dog. He found a seat on the rug, right in front of Chester. The happy moment passed when he looked at his dog. The Sussex Spaniel weakly moved his head towards him, the pain too much to bear. Frodo scooted closer to Chester and petted him, massaging his temples with his thumb.

It was the least he could do to help him out—

The front door burst open and in walked the doctor. Doctor Henson sat down beside Frodo with Sam by his side. Frodo didn't care! He just wanted to hear the diagnosis!

Doctor Henson examined Chester's eyes as well as his back and stomach. He shook his head, closing his eyes in despair. Frodo knew this was bad. "He's not going to make it. He may have a few more hours or less." He sighed heavily. "I'll leave you two alone. Sam?" He faced Samwise with needy eyes.

"I'm staying," Sam said sadly, keeping his focus on the dog.

"As you wish." Doctor Henson nodded. "I might as well stay, too. Give Chester some comfort."

"Could you?" Frodo asked, holding back his tears.

"Of course," the doctor said, softly, patting his shoulder.

Frodo gulped. This was it! The moment he'd been dreading. Well, he just that Chester would live out his final moments in peace.

"You're a good dog, Chess." A tear shed down Frodo's cheek. He didn't bother to wipe it away. "I'm going to miss you." The look on Chester's face said what the hobbit needed to hear: that everything was going to be all right. Frodo hoped that was true.