She hadn’t been feeling well the last few days, and we took her to the vet today. She collapsed while the vet was examining her and died.
She’d been slowing down the last few months, but this turn of events was totally unexpected. She’d been seizure-free since we added potassium bromide to her drug regimen last November. We never expected that today would be her last day.
I think she may have picked her time to go. Robert was there too, we were both with her. She was lying on the floor, and she just stretched out her legs and died.
This dog picked us out as a puppy. She was the bright spirit of our house, the dog we took to the beach, the frisbee dog, our doodle dog. She changed my life in many ways. She was always our little puppy.
Run without pain or sickness now, little girl. Never worry about another seizure. Swim all you can in the rivers of heaven, my sweet baby.
Please accept my sympathies in your time of loss. There are lots of new four legged friends just waiting to meet you, but I know that none of them will substitute for your Sasha. A loyal friend is never easily replaced.
How this reminds me of when our best dog Emily left us. She had been in general decline but still in reasonable health. On her last day she had only about two hours in which she seemed seriously ill, and went from bad to worse. We made two frantic trips to the vet that Sunday night, and she died on the second trip, in her best buddy’s arms, while I did my best to drive, blinking away the tears. But as awful as the whole scene was, we were grateful to have been with her, that she did not die alone and scared.
The next Saturday was a lousy Christmas.
She’ll never leave you as long as you keep her in your heart. We still talk to Miss Emily and tell her we love her. It helps . . .
Thoughts and tears from me, and a puppy “paws up!” from Bitz the Wondermutt.
I know nothing can make the ache and loss go away, but you can take some comfort (eventually) from the old saw that the short span of a dog’s life is the price we pay for their unconditional love.
I saw the light in your eyes the night you talked about your and Robert’s beloved dogs, Archergal, and it made me remember all the dogs I have loved and had to say goodbye to through the years.
I have no doubt y’all were loved by your Sasha and that she will live forever in your memories.
I’m so sorry to hear this. My little buddy died about three months ago; I still miss her all the time, every single day. Just keep in mind that you gave her the best life a dog could have.
I’m sorry about Sasha. I know exactly how you feel. Another friend is only speaking to me because she knows I’m the only one who knows how she feels.
My dog, Tuck, was the love of my life. Not only was he my companion, but he was also a service dog for my hearing impairment. He and I locked eyes with each other when he was a puppy and I knew that he was the one.
For years, he has helped me and he has made things easy for me. He was never any trouble. In the end, when he was having trouble with his cancer, his arthritis and his old age, he knew I was struggling with the decision of when to put him down. He simply cuddled up next to me and passed away in my arms. The decision was made for me by him.
But the lost felt afterwards is just something that people cannot understand unless they have lost a pet.
I’m really sorry for you, Archergal! In the last year we’ve lost 3 kitties and a doggie, including 3 of my BEST friends… I know they’re only animals, but it doesn’t hurt any less…
Oh Archergal. I feel so sorry for you. I lost my 14-year-old cat about 10 years ago. The pain was so great that I’ve not had the courage to have another. We have a 10-year-old Yorkie now and I can’t imagine life without him.
The only consolation is that you know you gave Sasha the best life a dog could have possible had. May she rest in peace.
