Grief is a funny thing. Everyone reacts to it differently, and the same person can have different responses to different situations that cause it. My grief has given me writer’s block for months.
On Sunday, September 8, 2019 around 9:00 p.m. we had to make the difficult decision to have our loving, mischievous, laid back Mandy put to sleep. I always grieve when any of our dogs die, but Mandy’s death hit harder in some ways because it was unexpected. She hadn’t been acting or looking sick even that Friday evening when we went to bed. But when we woke up Saturday morning, she had gotten sick in several spots. We figured she had gotten hold of something that disagreed with her (remember, she was our scavenger extraordinaire) and went through the dog-with-a-stomach-virus drill – picked up her water, kept her off food for about a half a day and other such things. We would put the water down periodically, but she wouldn’t drink too much and she showed a total disinterest in any food we put down for her after the half-day. So we let her rest, hoping the bug would work itself out in the next day.
Sunday she still was sick, still not interested in food and not at all her normal self. We decided we would make sure she went to the vet Monday morning, but by Sunday night we weren’t sure we could wait, so Mark and I went to the Emergency Vet Clinic in Montgomery. Kayla had school the next day, so she stayed home with Darwin.
They’ve seen her before (check out the incident of the medicinal sock here) but it took about an hour for them to get us back to a room. Once we were there, they drew some blood and did an exam and told us to wait.
The last two pictures of Mandy at the vet’s office that night:
Mandy being Mandy, she didn’t want to wait on the exam table, so I sat on the floor beside her petting her until the vet came back in to talk to us. The news wasn’t good. Basically, Mandy’s kidney or liver enzymes were off the charts, which meant she was dying. There was no treatment; she was just going to get sicker and sicker as time went on. We could tell she was miserable, so we made the only decision we could. The vet’s office had a special room where we could stay with Mandy until it was all over with, so Mark and I spent about 20 minutes saying good-bye, and a few more minutes sitting with her while the shots took effect before we said our final good-byes and left.
So now there’ll be one more pet to greet us at the Rainbow Bridge when our time comes. Heaven will be a lot more fun with Mandy there.
Have a good morning, everyone.
So sorry, Nancy. I had to do the same thing with Sammy, my cat, this past June. I feel your pain.
I’m a huge dog lover, never been without a dog my entire almost six decades. So, of course, I’m just bawling reading your post. Hugs to you and your family and remaining dogs. Love to Mandy in heaven.