So my dog is dead. Last night she didn’t eat, again, and except for a short burst of energy fueled by a mad desire to pee, I think, she crashed on the futon and struggled to breathe. M and I talked about our options, and I called the vet at 10PM. Unfortunately his daughter answered the phone and then, thinking the machine picked up, hung up the phone. I didn’t want to call back and cause problems, so I took a melatonin and crashed on the couch. I woke at four to find Shadow walking through the house, a lap of the first floor, then back on the futon. She still hadn’t eaten and the breathing appeared worse. Also, she wouldn’t lick me at all and seemed to have spasms close to a seizure near her throat and mouth.

You know, as I write this I keep glancing down at the futon, expecting her to be there. We had a wordless sense of each other in the house. I hope that’s her spirit I’m sensing.

I showered, ate, and called the vet at 7:15AM. He said he could be here by nine. I checked my email, cleaned a little, then sat next to Shadow and gave her water. I sat close, petting her fur, and thanked her for all the walks, the warmth, the joy, and the love. I reminisced about the woods and playing in the backyard. I talked about first meeting her back in Chicago and living on Seeley in our tiny apartment. I said goodbye. The vet arrived but Shadow hardly responded to his presence. I told the vet about the last few days and told him to let me know if her quality of life was reasonable. He said she was gasping for breath, probably could linger a little, but she wasn’t living well and the pain would increase soon. I’ve known this vet for over a decade, and I trust him, so we got started. At first I held Shadow but this seemed to be less comfortable for her so I put her on the futon. The vet shaved her paw, struggled to find a vein (low blood pressure) but shot the first shot, the anesthesia, without too much difficulty. The second shot went in the other paw, and after about thirty seconds of breathing, Shadow died. Goodbye, little girl. Goodbye. The vet said we made the right call but expressed that he wished she could have held on until the boys saw her. I’m torn on that issue. I don’t know if the boys would have wanted to see her in this state, or if it would have been good for them, but I’m worried they’ll blame me for the death. Sometimes you have to do the right thing even if it means your kids are going to be mad at you. I understand the biological desire to survive but I wouldn’t want her to continue to feel that pain. We’re getting the ashes back, like we have with all our animals, so the vet got a blanket and a bodybag from his car. I helped him wrap her up and he left. Now I’m here, looking down at the fur left from when he shaved her paw. Should I save some? I don’t know. My memories might be enough.

So now what do I do, you know? I put on my socks and shoes and run errands, Costco, Blockbuster, the library. I want to get out of the house. I feel her with me. Thank you, Shadow. Thank you. I can see you running in the fields.