Reminding her of the agreement we’d made over the weekend – that the next seizure would be her final one because I wasn’t going to let her suffer anymore.
Holding her on the cool bathroom floor as best I could with a pregnant stomach in the way.
Telling her just how much she meant to me and that it was all going to be OK.
Knowing we needed to get her to the vet ASAP but really not wanting to go.
At the age of 34, you’d figure I’d be used to making all sorts of grown up decisions – buying a home, starting a family, etc. – but making the decision to put a pet down was single handily the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. She went quickly and quietly and as much as I wished we could have done it at home, where she wasn’t confused or afraid, it had to be done. She will always be our first baby.
Call me a bit morbid, but we got her remains back and she sits at the entry to our now quiet home. I light a candle for her every evening if I’m home and give her urn a pat and a goodnight on my way to bed. At some point, we’ll take her down to the ocean but I’m not quite ready to let go just yet. I so wish she could have met our little girl, whose impending arrival has somewhat softened the blow of this huge loss. And though they will never meet, our daughter will always have black and white puppy toys around her, whether she likes it or not 😉
Love you Smells.