This coming week marks the one-year anniversary of the loss of our dog Aimee. We still miss her very much. In memory of her, I am reposting this entry.
Well, it happened. The moment we were dreading since we found out Aimee’s terrible diagnosis finally arrived this past Monday.
I came home around mid-morning from picking Dylan up from school and Bill met me in the garage. His eyes were red and the look on his face instantly alerted me that something awful had just happened.
“I think it’s time to put Aimee down,” he said.
I had been preparing myself to hear those words, but I was still taken by surprise. Aimee had seemed better over the weekend. She had barely bled and had even been chipper enough to play with Dylan a little bit. However, Bill informed me that things had taken a huge turn for the worse that morning. When he had come downstairs after I’d left, he’d found three big puddles of blood and some bloody vomit on the floor. Aimee was listless and weak. She wouldn’t eat or drink anything.
When I went inside the house, I found Aimee lying on the floor. When she stood up, her entire leg was covered in blood. Droplets of blood dribbled under her wherever she went.
I knew immediately that Bill was right. It was time to make the call.
Bill and I both wanted to be there, so we made an appointment for that evening. I called the family and let them know what was happening, and they asked if the could come over later and say their goodbyes to Aimee. Of course we agreed, and so the wait began. We got to spend a lot of time with her that day, giving her lots of love and thanking her for being such a wonderful pet and companion. It was truly one of the most difficult, heart-wrenching days of our lives.
At around 5 pm, my mother-in-law arrived to watch the boys, and shortly afterwards my brother-in-law, Mike, his wife Kathi, and our nephews Justin and Jack also arrived. That was such a bittersweet moment, because they were there to say goodbye, but I was very touched and happy that they wanted to come and do that. It showed me how loved Aimee was by everyone and how she had touched so many people’s lives. We all cried and hugged each other. All too soon, it was time for Aimee to go on her final car ride.
It was a sign of how ill she truly was that she didn’t even attempt to stick her head out the window. She always loved going for car rides, but this time she just lay on us, her head on Bill’s arm, blood still dripping from her legs.
At the vet, we were quickly shown into a room and the doctor explained what was going to happen. They were going to take Aimee out back for just a minute and give her a shot that would make her extremely relaxed (like to the point where her tongue might loll out and she would probably not move at all), then they would bring her back to us.
When she was back, we laid her down on the table and said our final goodbyes. This was truly the most difficult moment I have ever experienced in my life, but I am so glad I was there with her during those last few minutes. The doctor came back after a little while and, after asking us if we were ready, administered one final shot. She was gone within a few seconds.
Except of course she really isn’t gone. She is still in our hearts and in our thoughts. We still feel her presence in the house, still look for her in the corner where her bed used to be and her food bowl sat. We still expect to hear her bark when the doorbell rings. We still ache for her, but we know she is in a much better place now and she is no longer in pain.
We sure are, though. I’m having a hard time sleeping and tears will just randomly fill my eyes at any given moment. Bill is grieving as well. Thankfully, Dylan doesn’t seem fazed at all. He knows that Aimee died and she won’t be coming back, but is not bothered by her absence. I think his concept of death is not very clear yet, and I am thankful that his little heart is not bearing the pain that ours is.
We miss her so very, very much.
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