On Monday, our little born-in-1988 dog Marianne–well, I’m not up to blogging much, so I’ll quote you some email I sent to Frank…
After you left this morning, I got Marianne cleaned up and took her out for some spring air. She just wanted to go home, however–she was drooping. She lay in her basket panting and whimpering. The vet examined her carefully and told me she couldn’t figure out just what to do next. She said that Marianne’s pain patch was already the best option they have for a dog in such discomfort.
So she gave Marianne a strong sedative that made her fall peacefully asleep while I sat with her on the floor patting her. Then the vet injected an overdose of anesthesia and listened for Marianne’s heartbeat. Then it was over. They let me stay by myself with Marianne for a while. Then I left her there and went home and phoned the girls. Marianne has been part of all our lives for a very long time.
I feel very sad about having to make this decision. But I do also feel I made the right decision. Marianne trusted me to take care of her, to protect her, to love her. And she was right to trust me, because I did all those things.
I miss you, Marianne.
Tags: Sister Age