Yesterday was one of the hardest experiences I've ever had. The mass in her mouth began bleeding over the weekend. She was pawing at her face and compulsively licking her legs most likely out of frustration over the sore in her mouth. On Saturday we made the call to the vet, Monday morning 10:00 AM. We had a final day to get in our last hugs and pets and kisses and to say goodbye to our dear, dear friend.
We were with her when she passed. The last person she saw as she breathed her final breath was me huddled over her, petting her and telling her what a good girl she was. And oh how I miss her! Last night the door bell rang three times. No one comes to our door, no one. I held my breath each time for the howls to ensue, but silence. Terrible, lonely silence. And not only that, but vulnerability. For the first time there wasn't a dog between me and whoever was on the other side of that door.
This was my boys' first experience with death. They each are handling it very differently, my oldest son taking it the hardest. He's upset because he feels he was robbed of three years with her; she was three when he was born. He feels we should have waited to get her as a puppy until he was born then he'd have those extra years. His reasoning is a little off, but the feeling was dead on. I had twelve years with her, he had nine, but either way it wasn't long enough. I realized just how short her life was. It's amazing how much love is shared in those twelve short years.
We are going to make a headstone for her in the backyard and we are taking a collection of items to donate to the local animal shelter. I am going to get a necklace for myself. All little tokens to ease the pain a little less and preserve and honor her memory. But for now, there are just tears and hugs and more tears.
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