Abbey's last day...

It was warm for a Saturday in January, low to mid forties.  Normally I’d be tempted to sleep in…but not today…today I could barely sleep let alone steal a few more minutes.  The sun was already up although not bright.  Patches of snow were left where the sun doesn’t shine along the fence row.  The cool earth in the fields mixed with the warmth of the air blanketed my world in a hazy fog.  It was quiet and peaceful, perfect.

I mentioned a walk to Abbey and her ears perked.  So I got the leash and off we headed towards the fields.  She actually pranced a couple of steps.  I’m sure that was for my benefit.  Once in the field I removed her leash.  She didn’t really need it anymore.  She walked quietly beside me sniffing the ground and taking in the view.  We walked as slowly as the fog drifted.

We didn’t go too far before it was time to turn around and head back home.  Again she followed scents and checked out tracks left in the mud by the deer, fox and coyote.  But then she did something that she has never done before, as if she knew this would be the last time she would walk the fields.  She stopped.  She stopped on the edge where the field met the grass, looked over the acres she has patrolled for almost eleven years and then took a very deliberate step back into the yard.  It reminded me of the scene in LOTR where Sam stops and when Frodo turns to ask him why he has stopped he says, (I am paraphrasing here) that once he takes one more step he will have gone farther from the Shire than he has ever gone and a whole new adventure awaits him.  

Abbey and I made our way back to the house.  She decided to take a nap in her favorite garden.  I decided to have a photo shoot.  She hates photo shoots.  Most of the time her eyes let me know as much….but in others…she was just too tired to put up a fuss or move.

People walked by on the street.  She let out a few barks.  This is still her property to protect.  Then back to her nap.  We sat listening to the chickadees and snow geese.  With the dense clouds the geese were flying so low you could hear the wind in their wings.

Carol and Mike arrived.  Abbey got up to greet them and guide their car up the drive.  Dr. Carol was surprised by the warm welcome.

It’s so hard to know….if it’s time.

But I knew.  Just the day before as I was kissing my girl good-bye before I went to work…she looked me in the eye and I swear I heard her say, “please.”  I had been waiting for a sign.  This clearly was it.  I cried all the way to work and then called Dr. Carol.

After taking care of the business end of things, Dr. Carol and I walked out to Abbey, with her assistant Mike.

It was absolutely beautiful.  Sounds odd to say, but it was.

Abbey was given a small injection in the nape of her neck.  It would take roughly seven minutes for her to relax and drift off into a blissful sleep.  During that time she checked out the doctor’s bag, said, “hi” to Mark and once more, woofed at the people now walking back down the street.

I called her to me.  In her wonderful Abbey way, burying her head into my chest, she hugged me.  I loved on her giving her muzzle lots of kisses and scratching her behind her ears.  I told her how much I loved her and how much her boy loved her.  Tears caressed my cheeks and dampened her fur.

Dr. Carol gently helped her to sit as she became wobbly on her legs.  And I helped her to lay down in the Lenten roses that she loved so much.  I continued loving on her as she let out the most blissful sigh of relief and fell asleep.

After a few moments we gently rolled her on her side to allow Dr. Carol to administer the final injection intravenously.  She informed me that it could take a while as the liquid goes to the brain and her heart would stop on its own.  She told me that sometimes they twitch as they dream through it.  I was prepared.

I watched as the translucent pink liquid disappeared.  Dr. Carol removed the syringe and placed her stethoscope in her ears.  She placed the end near Abbey’s heart, she was already gone.

Dr. Carol commented that she was “one tired girl and that she had been putting on a good show for us.”  Her gums were so pale.  She had become jaundices indicating that the mass had affected her liver and kidneys.  

She was so peaceful, her ears so soft, her muzzle still warm.

They lovingly and gently placed her on the blanket and carried her to the car.  I gave her one last kiss…and then she was gone.

The fog never did lift that day.  And that night the heavens opened watering the earth with the tears of my heart.