I just ended 13 months of helping a dog with degenerative myelopathy up and down and outside to potty, sometimes when I had to literally lift her 80 pound self with the feebleness of my own 100 pound self, [bad discs, arthritis and all] simply because, other than not being able to walk very well, she was happy, bright, alert, ate like a pig, loved her physical & massage therapy necessary to keep her legs limber and had a decent quality of life.
That quality ended on Monday and she let me know.
Thursday night, the vet came and she ‘went out’ even before she got ‘the second shot’.
I -felt- her leave and she slipped from her now-useless shell with such ease.
She knew why the vet was there and for the first time in her 10 year life, she did not fear him.
I spent 3 hours with her before he came, cradling her big goofy-silly head and we shared cheese, memories, love and tears and she was so much stronger and fearless than I was.
I carried that dog for over a year.
If carrying her down one lousy mountain would’ve saved her, I’d have done it, no matter how much it hurt me.
I’m sick of the excuses being made for this bastard.
Oh, Sal, I’m so sorry for your loss. Bless you for taking such good care of your doggie. I know it was love, but still...
What a beautiful way to go, all full of cheese and tears and laughter and resting in the arms of love. Prayers for you and hugs...