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This is an update to this thread.
It was an omen. Last night about 5 P.M., we lost power in our neighborhood. So, LOML and I played scrabble by candlelight. It was so quiet in the house, that the only real sounds we heard were the dogs breathing near our feet.
It was an eerie kind of quiet. It was also the third night that Shadow refused her food. She had only a few drinks of water for a few days. We've had to administer her meds jammed in a cut piece of hot dog, or peanut butter for her to accept it.
It was during this silent time we both decided that it's time to give her up. I dreaded the thought of making that kind of decision. It makes me wonder that in having her treated since she was diagnosed to be terminal, was to keep her as long as possible for our good or hers. We both thought that we would allow her to be as comfortable as possible until the time came.
Well, the time came, and I almost wish she would have died on her own. This morning I made the appointment. I took her outside one last time before driving her to the Vet. She hobbled out in the yard and did her business. I sat down and she came and lay next to me on the grass. It was cold out there, about mid 40's, but the sun was shining, and there was a brisk wind. I sat there with her for about an hour just petting her head, and rubbing her ears. She was sniffing the air. We made a pretty sight. It would have been a great photograph...a man and his dog.
I got teary eyed knowing this would be her last time in her yard. By the time we came inside she was ready. I stayed with her in the treatment room and held her head. She dozed off quietly and quickly. She was no longer in any discomfort. I've always asked myself why do we set ourselves up for times like this. Having gone through this several times, it's for the unselfish love that they have for us.
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It was an omen. Last night about 5 P.M., we lost power in our neighborhood. So, LOML and I played scrabble by candlelight. It was so quiet in the house, that the only real sounds we heard were the dogs breathing near our feet.
It was an eerie kind of quiet. It was also the third night that Shadow refused her food. She had only a few drinks of water for a few days. We've had to administer her meds jammed in a cut piece of hot dog, or peanut butter for her to accept it.
It was during this silent time we both decided that it's time to give her up. I dreaded the thought of making that kind of decision. It makes me wonder that in having her treated since she was diagnosed to be terminal, was to keep her as long as possible for our good or hers. We both thought that we would allow her to be as comfortable as possible until the time came.
Well, the time came, and I almost wish she would have died on her own. This morning I made the appointment. I took her outside one last time before driving her to the Vet. She hobbled out in the yard and did her business. I sat down and she came and lay next to me on the grass. It was cold out there, about mid 40's, but the sun was shining, and there was a brisk wind. I sat there with her for about an hour just petting her head, and rubbing her ears. She was sniffing the air. We made a pretty sight. It would have been a great photograph...a man and his dog.
I got teary eyed knowing this would be her last time in her yard. By the time we came inside she was ready. I stayed with her in the treatment room and held her head. She dozed off quietly and quickly. She was no longer in any discomfort. I've always asked myself why do we set ourselves up for times like this. Having gone through this several times, it's for the unselfish love that they have for us.
.
Black wallnut
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Turaj (in Toronto) 
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