Letting Go...


Two weeks ago I had to say goodbye to my darling friend Abbey. After 14 years of the perfect relationship it was her time to go. I can't really describe the loss I feel though many people have been through it and survived. I have experienced tragedy and loss before but in these events it feels like life is happening to you, throwing a curve ball, and you just have to deal with it because you have no control. The loss of a pet by euthanasia feels different in that you have an intricate part of that decision. You sign the papers you make the appointment and you sit as they give her the injection. Even though time passes and pets get old and sick you prepare yourself it always seem too soon.

I thought I prepared myself as much as possible. We had made frequent visits to the vet. The receptionists recognized my voice on the phone before I even told them my name. Abbey had certain health issues but nothing we couldn't handle, nothing that kept us from the dog park or work. My promised her when her bad days out numbered her good days I would to let her go with her dignity intact. I was careful to watch her health and her moods, hypersensitive to each minute change. I weighed her every other week, fed her special food, gave her her glucosamine, and gave her fluids every other day just to give her kidney's a boost. She was known as the "Energizer" because just when you think she was old and sick she would bounce back. Even the vet was surprised. She still had a high quality of life so when it all came down the way that it did I have to admit in spite of my preparation I found myself blown away as the events rolled out.

Abbey injured her leg falling off of the back seat of the car when I had to break quickly for a squirrel. This happened on Saturday morning October 20th. I was on my way to work but fortunately my schedule allowed me to run abbey over to the vet right away. The vet was optimistic even though abbey couldn't walk on her leg. She gave her a pain killer to let her rest and we went back to work. The following Sunday we spent the day quietly hoping for improvement. A friend came over to help us pass the time by playing a game or two. We didn't see improvement so the vet met me at the clinic to give me an even stronger pain killer. Abbey had not been eating or drinking but she was still confident that we could nurse her through it. The leg wasn't swollen and you could move it with no reaction from Abbey it was looking positive. But everything changed Monday morning.

When we woke up everything seemed the same but a some point Abbey's leg started to swell. I called the vet because in spite of the painkiller Abbey was shaking with what I imagine was intense pain. She would flinch when you barely touched the leg. I had not yet made the decision of what was to come but I made an appointment to have her checked out.

We laid on the floor together waiting for the appointment time to come. I was trying desperately to comfort her. I was looking into her eyes speaking softly to her when it happened. She reached deep into my heart. I still don't know how it happened but she sent me a message, it was time to let her go. I could actually feel my heart skip a beat and I knew intensely what her wish was.

Many of us have been there. The exam room with the white walls and the bright lights. Your heart lying on the floor next to it greatest source of love and comfort wishing only to stop her pain, but yours just beginning. Your body shaking with the grief of what is going to happen. Waiting for the doctor to come in. The surreal feeling of the end of something but still holding on to the slightest bit of hope that this really isn't happening, until the very last instant when you know she is no longer there, that what you hold in your arms is only the vessel that held the spirit to you.

She was ready I know that. The vet knew that. She spoke softly to Abbey as she put the needle in, "You were ready for this girl weren't you." I take a small bit of comfort in the fact that in the end it was a black and white decision and not the gray area of, "is it too soon or did I wait to long." With her kidney disease and the tumor in her stomach it could have been much worse for her. The vet thought that a tumor in Abbeys leg made her bones brittle and that there was a hairline fracture in one of her smaller bones and that is why it didn't show up right away. Her leg had swollen more than it should have and it wasn't going to heal. Either way it felt too soon, 14 years wasn't enough , 50 years wouldn't have been enough.

Last week I picked up Abbey's ashes. I look at the little white box, it is a perfect square 5x5 inches, it is sealed by a tag that has both our names on it. That is all that is required to hold what is left of this little being that was so much more. It is odd to me that one single moment can change everything in your life. That 14 years is reduced to one minute and it is done. The days that follow are very long and empty. You cry until you don't think you have anything left and yet you cry more. You long for the pain to stop why does it take so long? The human heart takes time to heal. Yet when you love something so intensely and perfectly it leaves a forever mark, not a scar, but a loving memory of what you had. Though it feels like an empty place, like something missing right now I look forward to the time when it becomes a warm remembrance of the best kind of friend.