Hard Day

Yesterday, Jim and I put down our beloved dog of 14 years, Belle. She had a cancerous tumor on her bladder that we had known about for almost a year. The vet had told us that it wouldn't spread, but there seemed to be more going on with each passing day. She was growing weak in her back legs and couldn't do much physically without them giving out on her. Her bark had grown husky and lately it was rare to even hear her bark. She was breathing louder, sleeping harder, and had lots of lumps and bumps we could feel throughout her body. The medicine we were giving her would upset her tummy, she was straining more and more to go to the bathroom, and started having more accidents in the house. Last weekend we had two incidents that helped me come to peace with this decision. Saturday night, Jim let her out before bed, and she took off. He went out looking for her until 2:30 am, but could not find her. I was so upset and worried that I lost sleep. She has taken off in the past-every once in awhile she just gets the urge to go on an adventure. Problem this time-it was like a 98 year old person not realizing their limitations out there. I was afraid she would wander too far and her legs would give out on her in the middle of the road and she would get hit. I was also concerned because we didn't get her shots this summer. Why bother when we knew she would be gone soon. What if this is the one time she bit someone-we would be in more trouble without those shots. Well our neighbor called us in the morning and said she was down at his house. She didn't eat all day-wonder what she got into on her adventure-but she also didn't get sick. Sunday evening, Jim and I went out for a bit. Nate was home with her, but evidently she slept. So when we came back, she probably needed to go outside. She was acting antsy, but we were distracted and figured she wanted food. As Jim was feeding her, I walked into the living room and found her going potty on the carpet! What was so shocking is that she never really let us know she had to go out. She would bark and pester you until you got it, but not this time. She just followed us around and panted and we didn't pick up on it. Jim and I talked several times over the week and came to the decision together. He had a harder time, he really loved that dog and she loved him. I needed it to be a mutual decision and I needed him to be there too. It was so hard. She was thumping her tail even as he gave her the injection. I can't believe the amount of grief I have about this. It seems excessive for a dog. I felt like I was finally moving through the grief for my mom, and this brings up all those same emotions. Maybe I am just not ready to deal with loss again. And of course with this there is the guilt. We made the decision, we took her there, she trusted us. I don't feel like it was the wrong decision, it was just one I had hoped we would never have to make.