Farewell, Lucy
It’s done. She’s gone.
Shortly before we left the house, I gave her a can of tuna, a special treat, and she ate it. I chose to be in the room with her when she was put to sleep. I don’t know exactly why that was so important to me but I felt like I owed it to her to not let her go alone, with only strangers. I stood by her head, rubbing her ears the way she always liked and telling her over and over again how much I loved her and that we would miss her, and that she was a good dog. They tell you that it’s quick and painless and it is. She did literally just go to sleep. Within less than a minute the vet let me know that her heart had stopped.
I know that putting her down was the right thing to do. I’m not sure that being in the room with her was the sane choice for me because all I can picture now is her lying on the table, still warm to the touch but gone. I guess it’s better that I did get to see her go, that I know without a shadow of doubt that her death was quick, dignified and painless.
I feel a healthy measure of guilt because we have been debating for a while now what to do with her. She was causing a lot of stress and difficulty in the house. She couldn’t be trusted around Bridget. She snarled. She actually bit me twice in the past few months, a fact I hid even from Jake until yesterday because I knew he’d want me to get her out of the house. Now I know that part of it (not all, but part) was because she was actually ill. I feel guilty for all the yelling at her I’ve done in the past year. I feel like in some ways I wished for this. I didn’t really. I just needed a relief from the stress she was causing. I have to put my human family first. But now that I have it, now that there is no barking coming from the top of the stairs, I almost don’t know what to do with myself.
For all her faults, she was my constant companion for ten years. She was my friend, my protector and my warm body to snuggle with on the many lonely nights I spent in between a very bad breakup and when I met Jake two years later. She came with us to New York, where her presence let me feel safe when I was home by myself.
Wherever you are in the universe, Mrs. Ricardo, you’ll be missed.
9 Responses to “Farewell, Lucy”
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I know it may not seem like it now, but that image of her death will become less prominent with time. There will be a day when you think of her and smile, I promise. I know what it’s like to make that decision and live with the silence afterward. My heart is with you so very, very much.
Losing a pet, in whatever way it happens, is a difficult thing to go through. Being with her took courage and love. I’m sorry for the loss.
I also chose to be with my cat when I had to have her put to sleep. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and I remember it vividly 7 years later, but I am so glad I was there for her at the end.
I’m so very sorry for you all. RIP Lucy.
I’m so sorry for your loss and mixed feelings. It has to be really tough.
I was with Isaac when he died in ‘97. It was really, really tough but I am so glad that I did it. All the decisions I made that week were heart wrenching. I kept reminding myself what he would have done for me had the situation been reversed. That made it easier.
(Operation Kindness 972.418.PAWS may need her crate. Just an idea.)
HUGS to you.
So sorry to hear about Lucy…I still remember when you first got her years ago in Dallas.
She’s beautiful and I’m truly sorry for your loss.
oh I’m so sorry. Animals are so wonderful and it’s so hard to lose them. Hugs to you & your family.
I’m so sorry sweetie…big, big hugs to you.
Hey, sweet lady - I’m a bit behind on my reading. I’m so sorry to hear about Lucy but so glad that you have so many wonderful memories with her!