In the morning I gave her more pain meds and then started getting dressed and getting ready. She hadn’t gotten better and I knew I might have to take her to the vet so she could be put to sleep.
She came out, as she normally would, to lay on the floor by the open bathroom door. She always stayed close to me if possible and this day, less than an hour before dying, nothing had change as far as she was concerned.
She got up and started walking into the living room. But her legs gave out and I picked her up and put her on her pillow. She lay down on her side and started having difficulty breathing. I called the vet and told them I was going to bring her there immediately.
Then I called my mom. My mom had no idea the dog was seriously ill so she was very surprised. I asked her to come with me. She said she’d call my dad and he would drive us there. But she couldn’t get a hold of my dad so in the end I carried my dog to the car, put her in the backseat, kissed her and told her “thank you,” and drove to pick up my mom. She sat in the back with my dog.
“She won’t make it to the vet,” I told my mom, “She’s dying now.”
“We were hoping to get to keep you for longer” my mom said to the dog as I drove.
My dog died before we reached the vet.
I left her there, at the vet's, because she was going to be cremated.
After coming home, alone, to an empty apartment, holding my dog’s pillow in my hands… I just collapsed on the floor and cried.
I have never cried that hard before.
This is also the first time I’ve ever lived alone.
All I have to do is make it to the end of June…
It just seems so far away.