Sweet Lonely Ethel

It’s been two months that Fred’s been gone. People asked me how Ethel would be as an “only dog”. I thought for sure she would relish the opportunity to have ALL the attention. After all, she LOVES being petted and won’t let you stop once you start.

Occasionally, I’ve brought her to work with me and my co-workers seem to enjoy having her around.  She doesn’t make trouble and stays in my office. I’m not sure she enjoys it though. When we go to leave, she can’t get out the door fast enough.

The past few years, I’ve asked neighbors and friends in similar situations how their surviving pet was after losing the other. I often heard that they didn’t want to have another dog brought into their home… the surviving dog didn’t want another dog. Ok, in both instances an animal psychic was involved.

So, I wondered, “Does Ethel want to be an only dog for a while? Or, is she lonely?”

We visited my parents for Easter and Ethel loved having us around all day. She especially loved the hike that was part mud and part snow. She even joined Coal and Jemma – her canine cousins – swimming in the cold stream running by.

Now that we’re home and she’s alone every day, I wonder if she misses having another dog around. Is she depressed? Is she lonely?

A week ago, she stopped eating and had little energy. I took her to the vet and for $185 I learned she had an upset stomach and got some pills that I had to bribe her to take. She’s better now but drinking a lot of water and having accidents in her bed.

Hey, Ethel…  How about a puppy?

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Finding Peace

pawFred passed peacefully this afternoon. He was ready. I still wasn’t.

Dr.Jason from Lap of Love came to the house. He took his time explaining what would happen and patiently answering my questions. He provides a wonderful service with great caring and compassion.

As we were talking, Fred laid on his bed, looking up at me with his big brown eyes. He seemed to know – to be grateful – that we were going to ease his suffering. Dr.Jason gave him the sedative and Fred went right to sleep. He was so at peace, his legs twitching slightly. I sat with him stroking his head and neck, such soft fur, such warmth, a soft blanket covering his body embroidered with “Love and Dignity”. After a while, I nodded to Dr. Jason and he administered the medication.

Fred didn’t linger. After several short breaths, his heart slowed and he was gone. Now he is running free across the meadow by the rainbow bridge.

Ethel and I took a walk after they were gone. We saw the most beautiful sunset. How fitting an end for such an extraordinary friend.

A New Day

After I made the decision to cancel our appointment with Dr. Jason from Lap of Love, Ethel and I went to the store to pick up some pee pads and a new, more decorative stand for the food bowls. It is easier for Fred to have his food raised off the ground. But I refused to pay $30 for a stand so I taped a plastic crate to a box and covered it with a plastic yellow tablecloth. The black wire stand is much nicer and worth the money. We’re starting fresh.

It was the right decision, cancelling the appointment. We spent the day cleaning up, laundering dog beds and towels, and isis sickenjoying a beautiful afternoon. Fred even got a sponge bath. Later, we watched Sunday’s episode of Downton Abbey. Wouldn’t you know it, Lord Grantham’s dog, Isis, is sick! I’m glad I didn’t watch it on Sunday.

Most of all, I feel calmer. Fred and Ethel must feel calmer, too. It’s like a storm was heading right at us and took an unexpected turn away at the last minute. The clouds have passed and a new day is dawning; a new day for all of us.

In the wild

066In the wild, Fred would have been taken by some predator by now. But he isn’t wild. He’s a pet; a domesticated, mixed breed dog. It falls to us to help them find their way to peace in a painless, humane act of selflessness.

I sit watching him, lovingly rubbing his beautiful fur and thick soft ears. He sleeps so deeply, oblivious to the tears rolling down my cheeks. His legs start to twitch, he grunts and his eyes move back and forth. He’s off in dreamland, chasing rabbits, enjoying the fresh air of an open meadow. He’s free. Free of the limitations of his body.  Free of pain. Free of the awareness that things aren’t the same anymore.

There is a checklist one can take to determine quality of life that measures mobility, nutrition, hydration, interaction, elimination and his interest level in his favorite things. Fred scores pretty well, just above euthanasia.  He still eats his food – it takes more than one sitting – and drinks lots of water. I wish he would stop eating, stop trying to please me. That would be a true sign that I’m doing the right thing. All I have to do is watch him struggle out of his urine soaked bed, attempt to leap the step that isn’t there and I know what has to be done.