As of March 19th there were 2,050 deaths due to the Covid Vaccine, 7485 visits to the emergency room and 826 permanent disabilities.... Oh, and my dog died.

As much as I intend to do some funny, amusing or just general chit-chat each morning on CoffeeTalking, I typically write out a post and then end up deleting it.  Instead I add a couple of the images, memes or cartoons, and call it good enough.

Yesterday I had along post written, and it was amusing... but it was about how our 'sick' dog managed to sneak out of her gated area and puke on no less than 3 different rugs the night before.  But I felt guilty writing or posting it because although I wish she had stayed in the gated area where her comfy bed is, which is situated on a shower curtain and a rubber backed bathroom rug to protect our wood floors under her bed (due to the incontinence and puking issues the prednisone she was on caused) I still had compassion for her - and anyone or anything - that is nauseated and puking because I hate hate hate being nauseated.  More than I hate pain.  Give me pain... I can take it - but nausea and puking is my version of hell.

I also had an inkling that today was not a day to say anything funny or negative about her.  

So yesterday morning, as soon as it was written, it was deleted.

And then I got the dogs up to go potty and do breakfast.
I had to help support the sick dog to walk, as she wasn't stable on her feet early in the morning.
Then she promptly threw up the prednisone pill.
And although she would drink water, there was (still) zero interest in food.
She laid by the back door and didn't want to go out to go potty.

I had yesterday "off" but was invited to run some errands with a family member for fun. 
I declined.
I also had considered doing some hiking at one of the local state parks and maybe bringing a book along to sit and read and relax after.  But I felt strongly not to do that either.

I needed to stay home.  I knew this.

I let the other dog out, fed her and then got the sick dog situated on the deck with her bed.  She loves to be outside - the other dog hates it.  Thankfully the sun was out and although we've had nothing but severe storms for the past 10 days, yesterday promised to be beautiful.

It was still a bit chilly so I covered the sick dog with a thick beach towel, put her water bowl in front of her and let her lay on her bed on the deck all morning.  The sun came out, it warmed up.  She moved to a shadier spot later, around noon.  I set up her towel as a nice little shaded corner for her, again got her comfy.

Her breathing was labored and she was staring off into... nothing most of the time.  I pet her.  Talked to her.  I brushed her (not because she needed it because she likes it).  

After about 11:00 she didn't want water any more than food.  Her panting was continuous and her staring off was constant.  After about 3:00 she didn't seem to know or care if I was there as she was pretty focused on just breathing, panting and staring.

Around 5:15 pm she left.  I noticed her stomach was moving up and down any longer and the panting had stopped.  I put my hand up to her head and smoothed her ears.  No reaction in her eyes.  I placed my hand on her stomach area, no movement.  I felt under her front leg to the chest area, pressing tightly to see if I could detect any breathing or a faint heartbeat.  There was none.

She had just left us.

I stayed with her, laying on her sobbing for about 10 minutes before I went inside to check what time it was so I knew what to tell family members.  Then I went back out and laid by her again.  It sounds crazy but I kept thinking I was wrong before, and maybe she was still with us.  Was that her eye twitching?  Did her stomach just rise a little?  But no.  Even though she was still warm, her eyes told me she was gone.  I put my hand over them and closed them... holding them down to try to get them to stay closed.  I did this a few times until I needed to go back in the house and compose myself again.

Still, I found myself staring... willing her stomach to rise.  Willing her ear to flick.  Willing her paw to twitch.

But she was gone.
And it was a good thing.
No more pain.

No more lymphoma.  No more puking.  No more incontinence.  No more feebleness and weight loss.  

It was fairly quick.  It was peaceful.  It was a good passing.

She'll be buried today by my husband, in the woods on our property.  She loves being outside.