I am in a serious funk today. I put my dog to sleep yesterday and I am really struggling with it. She was old .. at least 15 I guess and I chose to end her life because the quality of it was really going downhill and I didn’t feel I was willing or able to care for her in a way that would make it any better from here on out. She was in no imminent danger or extreme discomfort but there was a lot of contributing factors: she was mostly blind and deaf, pretty arthritic in all her joints, had multiple tumors and growths in odd places including her mouth which was making it tougher for her to eat (her favorite thing!), and she was confined to the kitchen area of the house because she couldn’t be trusted on the rugs. She deserved better than she was getting at this point and on a lot of levels I feel I failed her but I would not want her to suffer and it was only going downhill from here. On some levels I know I did the right thing but I also have this nagging feeling that she had a lot of decent days left in her and that I robbed her of them. So I am suffering major guilt and lots of loss and reflecting on my memories of her.

My ex husband Myke was working for a pet store in Florida and he brought her up with him when he moved here. She was this tiny little puff ball that fit in the palm of your hand and he named her “Mistress Foo Foo Doggie”. She really was quite sweet and adorable most of the time but it certainly wasn’t all roses. When she was little, she went through a phase where she decided that all my good shoes were chew toys. We were living in one room in the basement of my parents house and it seemed impossible to keep the shoes away from her little razor teeth. Sometimes I think that she is actually lucky to have lived through that period in our lives. But she was really frigging cute too. She used to make this little chirping sound that totally cracked me up. And if I blew on her little furry face she would roll onto her back and take both her front paws and wave at me. Yup .. really cute.

When Myke and I parted ways, I kept the cat and he took “Foof” with him. It was a fairly amicable parting so I would still see her when I visited him and she would totally come running over to “mommy”. When baby Skye came along, it was decided that the dog had to go because she was too scampery and had the occasional accident that would not be so good for the baby to crawl through. Ughh! 😛 So, she was ‘offered’ to me (the one with a not pets lease over at the rental on Baker street) and it was basically “Suze, if you don’t take her .. she is going to the pound.” So yes, I took her in even though I am definitely more of a cat person than a dog person. Cats are so much more self sufficient and low maintenance and as much as I travelled, a dog was the LAST thing I needed.

But I guess that was about 9 years or so ago and for someone that would have never chosen to own a dog … I guess I really grew to love her. The house seems really strange today and I miss the sound of her nails on the kitchen floor. The cats don’t seem to mind but I think I am going to be second guessing the decision and hurting for awhile. I know that it will get better with time .. but for today I am really, really sad.