Grrrrt has had a very bad weekend of kidney failure. She ate Saturday morning, and my hopes were up, but she couldn't keep it down and stopped drinking and eating. She can't control her bowels and is miserable. Dr. Moore told me to find whatever painkillers I had to make her comfortable, and bring her in for one last needlestick tomorrow morning.
It's as if she heard "when she stops eating, drinking, and loses control" it's time and she did it all this weekend.
I've known and been prepared for this ever since I've gotten Grrrt. She wasn't expected to live for more than 2 weeks to 2 months. She's lived 5 years with me. Exactly. Her gotcha day is April 7/8. I paid her adoption fee on the 7th, and received her death sentence on the 8th. Five years ago.
It's harder than I thought to sit here and write this, watching her take her last breaths on her dog bed, as she lays staring at nothing.
As selfish as it sounds, just once I'd like for them to go peacefully without me having to intervene. I think back to Dusty, Izzy and the cats I've lost and the decision is never an easy one on my heart.
Goodbye Grrrrt. I know I won't be able to recognize you at the bridge until you bite me. You'll get to be whole, with a sleek doxie body and strong short legs. My petunia. It's time.