Jen FitzGerald

That control I talked about Monday? Not 100% yet.

Unfortunately, life decided to whack me upside the head and we took our dog, Honey, in and had her put to sleep Monday afternoon.



The shine was gone from her eyes, meaning the pain meds were no longer doing their job. Between the arthritis and the mouth cancer, she could hardly get to her feet, she'd lost her appetite, and eating was difficult with the huge tumor growing on her jaw. Plus she was snappy at everyone for no reason, except for the pain. So it was finally time to say goodbye.

DD opted not to go, but the rest of us went and were gathered around our dog as the vet administered the meds. It was low-key and respectful. We were allowed to stay as long as we needed, though we didn't stay long. I wish I gotten one last picture, of her after, looking peaceful, but I didn't think about it at the time.

Tears come and go. (Right now, as I'm writing, they're falling.) But it was time. I know it was. And yet I feel like I should have taken more time to make the decision. We had time, we took it, and yet there was no more time. She needed to be set free. So we did.

But all this talk about Honey, we've forgotten Sam.


Sam is just now realizing that her sister, playmate, and pal for the last eleven years is gone. Not that she understands all of that exactly. But she knows her life is different and that something is now missing.

We're trying to pay a bit more attention to her. My brown-eyed girl hasn't been scheduled to work and is able to take her for walks, and on days when she'll be home alone, I'll probably bring her to work.

So I'm getting up at 5am and reading my manuscript. I've at lest done that. Diet and exercise? Ppfft--not happening at the moment. Give me a few days and I'll try, try again.