Bad day

Yesterday I put my dog down.  She was a damn good dog.  I wrote about her here.  She was the first “joint purchase” the man and I made a month after we moved in together.  The best twenty bucks we ever spent.  She looked like a little tiny grizzly bear fluff ball of fur when she was a puppy.  She had a good life filled with boating and camping and road trips and car rides and kids and other dogs and cats and all the love a dog could ever want or need.  She was a faithful companion and good friend.  My whole family is grieving, 10 is taking it particularly hard.  About three days ago she asked if Griz was going to make it through Christmas.  I lied and said “oh sure. She is just old and having a hard time.” Death approached on a fast moving train.

She had arthritis in Utah and the winters were really hard on her.  We didn’t think she’d live much longer when we moved to Arizona.  We were lucky and got another three good years.  The last year she has progressively spiraled downward. Her arthritis came back and she has been on two different hormones for the past nine months to stop her from peeing when she sleeps.  When it started to get cold outside this year, she started to stiffen up in her hips and her front leg that had the metal plate (from being hit by a car).  Monday I noticed her hips were really bothering her.  She was really stiff.  Tuesday wasn’t much better.  By Wednesday, we had to help her stand up first thing in the morning.  I knew the inevitable was fast approaching. Yesterday, her stomach was bloated and she had a really hard time standing up.  I called the vet.  Millions of tears and the longest drive in history got me home and she was even worse, she couldn’t stand at all.  We helped her up, she would fall over.  The Man had to carry her into the vet. She couldn’t stand up at all by the time we got there. 

The vet said it could have been a bunch of things. The hormones, cancer, arthritis, her age, another disease, or even a combination of everything. 

Riddled with guilt today, I cannot help but feel that we should have tried something while the other half of me says it was time and I knew it.  We all knew it. 

The other dogs know she is gone.  They keep looking for her.  Ginger seems lost without her friend.  The front door looks bare without her laying there.  That was her spot.  Her Christmas sock is still hanging up.  10 wants me to leave it until after the holiday.  I found her food bowl in 8’s room under her bed this morning.  It was on the patio last night. 

We’re all still there, Theman, the dramas, the other dogs.  Yet the house feels so empty.

Gizmo 01/1994 - 12/06/2007