Well, I keep thinking I should come back here and see can I get a fresh start. This seems as good a time as any. It's been a hard year so far. Life, as Miss Edye always said, be so daily. I was typing a comment on a dear friend's blog when I realized it was becoming quite lengthy. So I copied/pasted it and elaborated here.
We had to deal with the realities of an agin', arthritic, luxatious dawg for a couple weeks before facin' that final decision for her. It were a sad, sad day. An' each day since has been rife wi' moments when we catch ourownselves in now needless habits created entirely as a result of her presence. Ever' time I pull out a tea bag, I think, 'No need to muffle the clinkin' glass no more, Sophie'... She was convinced that every glass against glass tinkle was her treat canister - though it had been years since we kept them in there - and she was long overdue for one. After all, it had been a good 5 minutes since her last one.
Duller, the light of her life - and that was completely mutual - was blessed/burdened with escortin' her to the vet's office. It was bittersweet. Her meds had helped her walk out on her own power. She did hate bein' carried outdoors to 'do her bidness'. Except for being unable to keep her food down, she seemed almost her old happy self again. So much so, we almost doubted our decision. But we all knew this wouldn't last and she would, likely tomorrow, have to be carried again. This was the right time. She had regained her dignity. It would have been cruel to take that away from her.
So, on the morning of 9 February, she lay in our grass for the last time. Her red eyes had cleared and that little doggie 'smile' graced her sweet face once more. We said goodbye and she wagged and licked, knowing she was 'goin' to see the other doggies at the animal hospital'. The vet's staff all loved Josie and always marvelled at how good her teeth were and how young she looked for a 13-year-old dawg. And were amazed that she actually looked forward to her visits with them. The vet, who had been so matter-of-fact the day before, bawled herownself when it came down to it.
I've loved and lost before, so I know we will survive this heartache. I also know that, 13 years from now, I'll reach for that glass canister one day and think, 'No need to muffle the clinkin' glass no more, Sophie'.
Yes, I love you. No, I will not share my bone!