Today we had to say goodbye to our puppy, Abbie. She wasn't a puppy. She was going on 12, but she was my puppy - my baby.
She'd been declining pretty rapidly over the past month. The vet said her liver failed. She had a mass and her liver was no longer working. The toxins had built up in her poor body and she was suffering. She said they could give her fluids and let us take her home, but she felt that was cruel. Abbie was in pain.
I seriously hoped she had some kind of strange infection and that after a few antibiotics she'd be fine.
I was wrong. The vet said there was nothing we could have done differently, nothing we did wrong. It happens. She was old and there is no rhyme or reason for these kind of things.
I was with her when she died - holding her, sobbing into her soft black fur. The vet assured me she was ready and that she could tell by her eyes that she adored us.
The vet carried her to my truck, hugged me, and said no charge for the visit. I really love our vet, except... we now have no animals to take there anymore... (2 beloved pets in less than a month is a little much, don't you think?)
We brought her home and took her to her favorite place for burial. She's at The Meadow, watching over everything.
I will miss you, my sweet girl. So much.