I’ve been emotionally overwhelmed by the comments I’ve received in the past few days here as well as on Twitter and Facebook.  I can’t begin to tell everyone how much these messages and comments and emails have meant to me.

I never would have thought I’d be so torn up over the death of Spikey.  Of course, I had no idea that it would happen now; I thought I was going to have several years before I’d need to worry about that.  As Bob Dylan once sang, “either I’m too sensitive or else I’m getting soft.”  Well, maybe, maybe not.

My helper is taking it the worst of all.  I thought it was going to be hard enough coming home tonight and not having Spikey at the door to greet me.  But she was sitting in the dark and I realized she was crying.  She wanted to know when Spikey’s cremation would take place.  ”It probably already has,” I told her.   It turns out that while I didn’t feel the need to get Spikey’s ashes, she did and does.  But I’d arranged for what they call a group cremation – for pets that have died and their owners, like me, want the bodies treated with some measure of respect but don’t feel the need to get the ashes back.  I told her to feel free to call the vet in the morning and ask about it but I fear it’s too late.

More than one person has asked me if I plan to get another dog.   I’m certainly not ready to seriously contemplate that right now.  Maybe in the near future I’ll be able to think about it.  Although I’ve already decided that if I’m going to do it, I won’t go to a breeder as I did for Spikey or a pet shop as I did for Bogey; this time I will look at the animal rescue shelters and also at all the photos posted in the vets office of people trying to find homes for their pets for one reason or another.   That’s if I’m going to do it.

Life goes on and I’ll get back to my usual ranting and raving shortly.

Thank you everyone.

So that’s it.  It’s over.  Yesterday morning, when Spikey no longer had the strength to stand up and peed in his bed, I knew I couldn’t let this go on any longer.  He tried to eat but when a 40 kilo dog is only eating a few spoonfuls of food per day, you know it’s just not enough.   We wrapped him up in a blanket and used it as a stretcher and he moaned as we carried him to the car.

The injection was a relatively simple process.  The vet warned me that Spikey might have some spasms but that didn’t happen.  I cradled his head in my arms as the doctor gave him the shot and in less than a minute, I was told he was gone, although to look at him I couldn’t believe it.  I still can’t believe it.

I’m not a believer in burials for humans let alone animals and I also had no desire to get a cup of ashes to spread somewhere or keep on the mantel.   But I did want his body to be treated with dignity.  I couldn’t bear the notion of his body being tossed into the garbage or anything like that.  He will be cremated.

We left the vet’s office and the first thing I did was buy a big bottle of Jack Daniels.  We went home.  The vet said to give Bogey some extra attention so I gave him some special treats, stuff that he doesn’t get every day, basically he seemed quite okay.  Then I drank until I passed out.

My helper told me this morning that she is certain that Spikey came back to see us last night.  She said she didn’t see him but she could smell him.  We each deal with grief in our own way.