Our Final Days/Our Final Hours

I write that it was our final days, yet I did not know it would be our final days; and I did not know our final hours would come when they did. The nights were the hardest, as that seemed to be the time when she could not get comfortable or settle in. We would have "cookie time" and play with "tennie" (what we named the tennis ball she found). So each night, I would lay with her, give her cookies, roll the tennie at her, tell her that I was there, and try to keep her as comfortable as possible. Thursday night was the most difficult, she would give out frustrated cries and want to go outside; so we spent the night going in and out, trying to make her feel more comfortable. Around 6:00 AM she finally settled in, so I stayed with her, laying there in bed, letting her sleep, letting her rest.

When she was ready she got up, we walked to the kitchen and I noticed her back legs give out when she hit the kitchen floor. I caught her and helped her to the carpet and she seemed to steady herself. I made her breakfast, she ate it with great enjoyment, so my worry lessened, as everyone told me that she would stop eating when the end was near. We then proceeded with our normal routine, outside to be brushed on the deck, and then a quick game of Frisbee. On the first throw I noticed that although she wanted to play, her legs kept twisting under her. I said to her, "We might have to give up Frisbee Time, huh girl?" She sat down, but cried out for me to throw the Frisbee..so we played a game of her sitting and me throwing it to her. She seemed to enjoy herself.

We came inside, she seemed nervous about walking across the kitchen floor, so I helped her get to the carpet. She had a drink of water and then came and laid next to me while I settled in to work. During the day, she laid just outside the office door, where she could see me, but where she could stretch out. At lunch I made my lunch and she watched from her spot, not moving, which was unusual, but I don't think I thought it was odd. I brought her a bowl of milk and she got up and came into the office to have her milk. Again, I thought, she is ok, she is still eating and drinking. When she was done, she went back to her spot on the floor and slept.

At 3:30 she gave our a frustrated cry, which is usual for her when she needs to go to the bathroom. So I decided to take a break and take the pups outside and check the mail. Tasha was laying closest to the front door, so I decided to take them out that way. I opened the door and Skol went running out but Tasha did not. I walked through the door, out to the front porch, and looked back and she was just laying, looking at me. I called to her, coaxing her out, she got up and tried to walk towards me and hit the foyer floor and her legs gave out. I ran to her and helped her up, worried now, but helped her outside, down the stairs and into the yard. I thought once she was on the grass, her legs would get better. She tried to take a few steps and her back legs twisted and gave out and she fell to the ground. She got scared and got herself up and tried to make it back into the house. She made it back to the stairs, but when she attempted the stairs, her legs gave out again and she started to fall down the stairs. I ran to her and caught her, brought her into the house and put her on the couch. She laid there, ears back, scared.

I knew it was time, I knew she was suffering. I woke my husband and told him that she wasn't doing well. He came out and called him to her....she got up and went to him, but he saw her stumble and told her it was ok and to lay down. I called the vet, they agreed it was time and to come at 6:00. It was happening, she was going to go to sleep at 6:00, she would be out of pain. Until then, I laid on the floor with her and gave her all the love that I could.

At 5:30, we got ready to go. I did not seem real. Tasha fell as we made our way to the car. I helped her into the car, we go to the vet. It was supposed to be peaceful, it was supposed to be Tasha laying down to be comfortable; Kevin, Skol and I surrounding her, letting her know that she was loved. The reality: Tasha was nervous, kept trying to get up, but her legs wouldn't hold her. Skol was nervous and pacing. The vet shaved her front paw to put the needle in and Tasha got more nervous and cried out. I held her close, whispered to her how much I loved her and that she would be free of pain soon. The vet tried to put the needle in, Tasha's vein collapsed. The vet tried again, still no luck. She tried a third time, it did not work. I started to think this wasn't right, we made the wrong decision.

Tasha's nerves got worse. The vet tried the other paw; still no luck. I feel myself start to panic; are we making a mistake, but the vet explains that this is what happens towards the end. To remain calm for Tasha. The vet leaves and comes back with a sedative and gives it to Tasha. She says she will be back in five minutes, when it takes affect. Tasha begins to settle, she lays down, her tongue startes to come out of her mouth lazily, she puts her head down. She is calm now, I am holding her. The vet comes back, she puts a catheter in, this works, she administers the drugs. Tasha doesn't move, just becomes more relaxed, she doesn't move again. The vet listens for a heart beat, she tells us she is gone. I hold her tight and sob. My sweet girls is gone.

I sob and cry that I have killed my sweet girl, how could I have done this. I question everything that has just happened. My husband tries to comfort me, the vet explain it was the right thing to do. I am heart broken. Then I remember the poem dearest Julia sent to me that morning:

If it be I grow frail and weak,
And pain should wake me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done,
For this last battle can’t be won.

You will be sad, I’ll understand,
Don’t let your grief then stay your hand,
For this day more than all the rest,
Your love and friendship stand the test.

We’ve had so many happy years,
What is to come will hold no fears,
You’ll not want me to suffer, so,
When the time comes, please let me go.

I know in time, you too will see,
It is a kindness you do me,
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering, I’ve been saved.

Do not grieve that it should be you,
Who has to decide this thing to do
We’ve been so close, we two, these years,
Don’t let your heart hold any tears.

It comforts me, helps me leave my sweet girl who's shell is laying there on the floor of the vet's office wrapped in the towel we brought to keep her warm. I say goodbye one last time and we leave.

Today and yesterday, I am grieving. I miss my dear girl and Skol misses his dear friend. We both walk the house expecting her to come out from a room and want to go play outside. She will not come, but we still wish for it to happen. I try now to hold on to the second poem Julia sent to me, the one that helps me through the tough moments during the day when my pain of missing her is so strong.

Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.

When I need to feel her, I go outside and feel the wind on my face and imagine that it is her running by, on four strong legs; no longer in pain, free from the cancer; at peace, happy. My sweet girl who only knew happiness even through cancer. I will love you my sweet girl, forever and a day!