She Got The Cancer, and Died on a Tuesday
Last Tuesday my baby girl had to put her beagle to sleep.
It was the first puppy she and her husband had ever had together.
She was 11, and had kidney disease and an enlarged liver that was probably filled with tumors.
She had been sickly off and on for a year, but nothing really that major, until a few days before her last trip to the vet when the vomiting and diarrhea were constant and alarming. She also refused food and water most of the time.
My baby girl called me, her voice a sobbing tear-filled wail of pain.
“Mom, the vet said she’s dying and there’s nothing they can do.”
“Oh honey, I am SO sorry.”
“She said we should put her to sleep because she is in pain and feeling sickly. But, Mom she’s bouncing around the office and wagging her tail…and I cannot make this decision on my own…” her voice trailing off into sobs…”can you come get the baby? She’s been here like two hours already and she’s getting antsy. My husband is taking off work early to be here.”
“Sure.” I limped my swollen back up there and got her, brought her back to my house and fed her peanut butter and jelly. A couple of hours later I had to take her back to the vet and drop her as I was going for my MRI.
When I got to the vet, the tech was walking into the exam room carrying a taped up box which I knew carried the remains of the spunky little beagle.
My first grandpuppy was going out in a storage box, and they were taking her home to bury her in the backyard of the home she’d only lived in for a year.
My baby girl and her husband grabbed me and sobbed. I did, too.
I had no words. Not one.
There is nothing quite so painful as the loss of a loved one, and I don’t care if it’s “just” a dog, loss is loss.
So, Miss Jenny got the cancer and died on a Tuesday. They buried her in a shady spot in the yard she loved.
Forrest would be proud.
That’s all I have to say about that.