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Sunday, June 30, 2013
A beloved member of our family recently passed away.
Her name was Asia, a pure-bred sheltie who had become as much a part of our family as a third child. She was a loyal and loving friend and companion .
After a decade of living life to its fullest, her health suddenly unraveled. In a month’s time she lost nearly half her body weight.
Her liver had failed and her days were numbered. Euthanization was offered. I said I preferred that she die at home with dignity.
As she was in no visible pain, I labored day and night to extend her life and maintain a normal sense of happiness for her. This was a difficult task for us both.
On the eve of her passing, I went to our mudroom as usual to say good night to her.
She was breathing with difficulty, gasping for air through her mouth. Instinctively, I laid down beside her to massage her back and rub her chest.
She watched me closely, and her ears were cocked far back to listen to my every word.
I told her that it was OK for her to go tonight. And I told her what a good girl she was for waiting until everyone had the chance to tell her goodbye . Lastly I told her that I would always love her.
Her breathing returned to normal. I had allayed her fears. I kissed her on the cheek and went to bed. In the morning she was gone.
That day we had her cremated, and her ashes were scattered at a nearby farm.
If, indeed, all dogs do go to heaven, then I know she and I will get another chance to be together.
I’ll call her name and she’ll come running. Like the puppy she once was, she’ll bound into my open arms. We’ll hug and play just as we had for years before.
Only this time there would be nothing to stop us.
Weather JournalBreather before next wintry system