Well, in approximately 1 hour, a vet will come into my home and euthanize my dog.
That is just such an odd thing to say. I realize it’s a common occurrence. I’m not the only one to deal with this kind of sad, sad thing. At the moment it feels like it, but I know it’s not true. I’m the first of the vet’s appointments today - that means she has others. What a job - traveling around and helping pets cross the rainbow bridge, if you believe in that sort of thing.
Anyway - this has been a weird few days since I made this appointment. Time has sort of stopped, but also kept moving until I now find myself where I never really thought I’d ever be, despite all the times I imagined it. I’ve done all the things I can think of to make these last few days peaceful. My dog is beyond adventure at this point. She’s old and slow and has a massive tumor in her mouth. It’s important for me to say that aloud, because there are times in the last few days when I’ve looked and her and couldn’t understand why I was doing this. She was snoozing at my side like she always has, breaths deep, twitching occasionally while chasing a dream squirrel. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that says she needs to die.
But then, she’d wake up, and start panting. She’d pace around, and her legs would buckle a bit while she was eating or drinking. And then I’d grab her leash, and she’d leap to her feet, trotting over, tail wagging. But the tail was wagging low and slow; it’s been a couple of years since she wagged her tail high and excited. She used to leap to her feet whenever I said the words “what do you think, Sadie?” the preamble to “do you want to go for a walk?” And then she’d hustle out the door, pausing when I had to pause to lock it, looking back in impatience. She hasn’t had that impatience for a while now.
Today, I woke up at 6:44 am. It took me maybe a minute to remember what day it was…and I waited. The tears I’d been shedding at regular intervals the night prior didn’t come. I felt oddly calm, even though my brain was telling me this was the last morning I’d wake up to Sadie on the dog bed beside my bed.
I woke up and did my thing - she didn’t move. This isn’t unusual; when I wake before 7:30 these days she kinda looks at me like I’m nuts. After I puttered around a bit, she emerged and I shooed her outside. She doesn’t linger out there much anymore; she used to, I’m not sure what’s changed. She headed immediately downstairs, which was also a little odd - sometimes the stairs have proved to be too much for her tired legs these days.
I feel into the routine of our mornings almost without thinking - get out the dog food, drop the drugs in. Last night’s I’d set out the last dose of drugs because I felt like doing it this morning would be too much. I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was the point of these drugs at 7:30 when she’d be gone in a few hours. Naturally that set off the waterworks - I knew it would happen eventually.
I got out some chicken, a treat, and tore it up over the top of the food. I brought it to her downstairs and set it between her paws, as I have for months now. She gave it a few tentative licks, then decided it was worth her time and started eating. I decided to feed myself, and headed out to Starbucks because there was no way I’d be making myself breakfast today.
At Starbucks, I reflected on how she used to be able to walk with me in the morning; I’d tie her out front while I’d duck inside for my iced tea. That hasn’t been a thing for a couple of months or so - it’s too far for her.
Back home, I found her waiting for me on the blanket in the living room - I set it out in the hope that she might settle there when the time is right. I grabbed the leash and she popped right up. Yet the moment we left the house she walked slowly, and it’s selfish, I know, but I’m glad that she showed me that she’s tired. If she’d gone bounding out the door I might have called the vet to cancel, because the Sadie who would do that would require more days to enjoy it. But that’s not the Sadie we have now. We have the one who knows that walks are awesome, but also has to walk slowly because her bones are tired.
Thunderstorms blew through last night. They left the neighborhood strewn with leaves and branches and sparkling with that post-storm clarity. White puffy clouds sailed through the blue sky and I couldn’t help but think I couldn’t ask for a better final walk morning. Cool and breezy with hints of the humidity that would come later.
We set out on Sadie’s favorite loop, stopping to sniff the Black Eyed Susans. Down the little hill, into the shaded path behind the houses. Normally she’s sniffing all over, but it was slow and tentative today. There’s an intersection where I usually want to go up, and she wants to go down - I took it without any coaxing from her today. Around the bend and I let her off leash for a symbolic moment, just to remind myself that after today she’d never have to walk on a leash again. She didn’t mind when I clipped it back on, though, and as we plodded on I just found myself grateful that she’s well enough to take this last walk with me.
We probably went too far for her, but I wanted to pass under the cherry blossoms on that one street, and make our way over to the community water bowl by the tennis courts. We took the long loop home, walking right past the turn that usually signals we’re heading home, and which she studiously, always tries to ignore. Down the hill to the little “park” where she sniffed a bit, but was clearly out of steam. So we climbed back up the hill where she always slows to a crawl, because she knows the walk is ending. This time she had a little pep in her step for a bit, but then once we got to the house, the same routine played out. She stopped on the stoop as if to say “do we HAVE to go inside?” Yes, pooch, we do.
And now, I sit in the living room while she sits in the cool basement, and we wait. I don’t know how to do this, what I’m supposed to do, if I should be crying or laughing or forcing her up onto the couch to snuggle me. Instead, I’m writing, because what else do I do when I don’t know what to do?
She’s had a great long life, or at least I hope she has - we really have no way of knowing what she thinks of her life, if she thinks of it at all. I know that I’ve had a great companion for nearly 13 years. That’s a gift and I’m grateful. But lord, I am also so very sad that in less than an hour I’ll be alone in my apartment, and it won’t be because she’s at the doggie spa.
But, I wrote this so I could force myself to remember our last morning, and be grateful for the sunshine and the sight of Sadie sniffing the bushes and flowers like she always does. So, yeah. Here’s to holding on to good memories.
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Post script: After I wrote this, she came back upstairs and just looked at me. I grabbed the leash and she popped up again. So we went for ANOTHER walk, this time just around our short little loop that we do when she needs a short walk. The vet called while we were out and said she was on her way. We came back to the house and went right to the backyard where I realized it was better to be for her final moments. I’m so glad she gave me that cue. It was a beautiful, shady morning.