We had to say goodbye to Pansy today.
We took her to a new vet and I guess I was really hoping for some miracle..some magical pill that would just help her feel better and keep her active for longer. Everyone has been telling me stories of their dogs or cats or a dog they knew who had kidney disease but had ___ and then lived for 4, 5, 6 more years.
This new vet was fantastic. The whole place was great and the Dr. told us so much more than anyone else had about the disease. I was gutted, sure that I had ruined Pansy's chances for a longer life by not taking her here sooner. I am going to struggle with the "what ifs" for quite some time, I think. The vet told us Pansy was just too far gone; her liver was starting to shut down and her breathing was labored. She was starting to show blood in her stool this morning as well.
We knew it was time. As much as we didn't want to say goodbye, we had to let her go. It was peaceful and painless, for her. It was agony for us as we sat on the floor with her, the vet, and one of the techs, all of us caressing her; Pete sobbing and telling her he was sorry. And then she was gone.
We were able to take her home with us (though technically not allowed). Pete couldn't leave her there. He carried her in a blanket in the backseat of the car all the way home as I drove. He dug her a grave in our back garden, in the spot she kept going to these last few days. We waited for my daughter to come home from school and we laid her to rest. We talked of how much we loved her and the things that made us so happy about her. I said we should imagine her leaping about chasing squirrels, and finally catching them.
This evening Pete walked down to the garden center to buy pansies to plant on her grave, but they didn't have any. As if in a ridiculous movie, the woman actually said to him, "It's too late for pansies. They wouldn't last long."
This pansy is on our neighbor's porch. We're going to look tomorrow at another garden center for some and if we can't find any, we'll ask her if we can have some of hers.
Our boy Tyson, who I worried would be very upset, seems to be completely oblivious. I don't know if he'll start getting upset late tonight or in the morning or what. Right now he's in his usual spot at Pete's feet on one couch, and I sit here missing Pansy being at my feet where she usually is.
We will miss her so much and forever. It will get easier, I know, but the tears just keep on coming now. There is something just so desperately sad when we lose an animal companion. All they do is give and give. It's just not fair.
