Saturday 19 January 2019

You are Gone But Never Forgotten: Gideon's Last Day

 


Yesterday was your last day with us. 

You were sad for three days where your ears were down, and you could barely put pressure on your tumour leg. 

We promised you would not be in pain. That our last memories together would not be carrying you outside and you whining in pain because your breathing was drowning you or your leg had been broken by the evil tumour. 




We put Fynn in the bedroom, and he howled. And howled. I don't know how long he howled for, as we needed to get to our appointment.



On our final car ride, you did as you always did - you sat up, looked at me in the rear view mirror, and happily smiled, knowing we were taking you to some place good. 

You got out of the car, and did something you never did.  You said "F" you to that cancer, and peed on the wheel of a Chevy Volt. 

We don't like Chevy's either, pup. 



You kissed two ladies in the waiting room - one lady, we found out right before we took you in, was also putting her beloved family member down - a daschund who was not able to walk in.

You hopped and wagged your tail, sniffed the food bags, and made people smile. 

You did what you did normally. And it made me both full and empty within my heart. 

The vet took care to listen to our last wishes - and will take many paw prints from your no-longer sore feet - we tried so many times, but it hurt you, and we couldn't get the perfect Gideon prints so we can have you walk with us always in memorial. 

We brought in your sunshine pillow so you were able to comfortably lay down your last few moments. 

Husband sat behind you, holding your head and body close - I looked into your eyes, and sat by your side - stroking your ridge.  

Even your normal vet came in to say goodbye - he knew you were an amazing dog and so loved. 

You were not alone. 



 The nice vet techs put your catheter in once your Ketamine set in - you were as high as F*#@.

You kissed both of us - a sign that you were ready to leave us in body. 

Then so quickly you were gone. It happened so fast.

I cried in the corner - I couldn help but to sob - and stroked your back. 

I went into Husband's arms and we cried together. 

Gideon - you looked at peace, and were no longer in pain. And you have left us loving you forever. 

A piece of my life is missing today.

It's you. And will always be you. 

I am so missing you. 

When we got home last night, Fynn was released from the bedroom. He ran downstairs in a frenzy, grabbed two stuffies, and wanted to play tug of war. 

You looked around a bit, but were still wagging your tail. 

You had dinner, and settled down. 

You looked a bit sad and confused.

But you held your head up high when we pet you - something you never did before - always lacking the confidence. 




But we think you knew. You knew before we knew Gideon was sick. You knew to be by your brother his last few days. You knew he couldn't play with you.

Maybe you know he is gone. 

Love your dogs every day. Take a minute to pet them when they come over for love. Play tug of war. Give them extra belly scratches. Give into their love and love as they do. 

You never know when their last day will be. 

There is no love like the love of your loyal hound. 

2 comments:

  1. So beautiful Crystal and special to take the time to reflect and write this. Your letter has brought me to tears. I am so proud of how strong you were during this experience and when the time came to say goodbye. I hope writing this has brought you some peace and you and your family are enjoying time together today to just love one another.

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    1. Thank you! Saying goodbye the way I did (since diagnoses) has made post-Gideon life easier to deal with - along with the support of our friends, Fynn, and each other (Husband and I). He will be loved always.

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