The Loss of a Dear Friend

I had been working on a post about breastfeeding, which was pretty much finished except for adding some pictures, but, unfortunately, something much more important has come up. As I type, I'm on the ground beside my dear, sweet, beautiful Molly during what will sadly be the last few hours of her noble life.

Eric sitting by Molly yesterday afternoon

Over the last few months, I knew that this day was much too quickly approaching. Molly has gotten weaker and weaker, and for months has had difficulty getting herself up to walk on our laminate flooring. Her back legs didn't have the strength to support herself enough to keep from sliding to the ground. Once outside, though, where the ground wasn't so slippery, she could move around freely. She didn't do much but move from napping place to napping place, but in all honesty, that wasn't new to these last few months. Molly has never been so playful and adventurous as crazy little Sheena. She has always been calm, and sweet and was content to have you sit beside her and pet her.

He played with her water, and then got mad when he got wet!

The last few weeks, things had worsened a little. Molly still seemed to feel OK, but couldn't make it through the night without going outside. Since Mauri leaves the house at 4AM, it wasn't a problem to let her outside when she needed it.

Yesterday, though, when he left, instead of the usual kiss goodbye, he woke me to tell me how he couldn't get her up that morning; that one of her hind legs just didn't seem to be responding. I figured it was a temporary thing, and fell back asleep only to awake to a Molly who couldn't stand up on her own. I worriedly carried her outside, and felt a little more relieved when, once outside, she managed to limp down to the yard to go pee. I went back in and got Eric ready for school, and was a bit happier to see that Molly had moved to a new place in the yard by herself, and later to a place on the patio. So, yesterday I went about my day as usual. In the early afternoon, though, I noticed that Molly was in the same spot as she had been earlier that morning, and that the sun was overtaking the area, and that she wasn't moving herself to the shade. I tried to get her up, but was unable to get her to walk, and had to carry her over to the shade. I then brought her water, and made a worried phone call to Mauri.

Mauri called the vet, explaining the situation, and the vet offered to give him a shot of an anti-inflammatory medicine to give her and to see if that would help. We were both skeptical, but decided to give a last attempt at trying to have Molly be as healthy and happy as possible for as long as possible.

As you can imagine, though, the shot did nothing, and last night Mauri was only able to hold her up for long enough to let her pee before coming inside to sleep one last night.

Where Molly spent most of yesterday and today

At 4AM, he was unable to get her up, and decided to leave both dogs outdoors for the remainder of the night. When I woke up, I rushed outside to see how my poor baby was doing. I was sad to see her unable to move, and sitting in her own urine and feces. I cleaned her up as best as I could, tried to get her to drink water, and got Eric ready for school. Meanwhile, Mauri called the vet who of course told us that there was nothing he could do for her anymore. Her nerves had degenerated, and she will only get worse from here. The only thing he could offer was a suggestion that it might be time to think about putting Molly to sleep.

We didn't need the suggestion. Both of us knew that the time was here. I guess I am the lucky one, though, because I was able to rush home and spend one last day with my beautiful, sweet Molly. I wanted to do something special for her, but since I can't even get her up, I couldn't think of anything special to do with her. What she most enjoyed, really, anyway, was being by our side at home.

How we spent most of the day

So, here I am trying to type with, for the most part, one hand because Molly is by my side, and keeps nudging my hand with her head as I type, the same way she always used to. So, I'm typing with one hand, petting her with the other, constantly looking at the clock and noticing that soon I have to go pick up Eric, and that Mauri will be coming home from work soon afterwards. Then we have the horrible task of saying goodbye to Molly for good. There are days when the clock can't move quickly enough, but there are days, like today, that you just wish that time would stand still.

Around Eric, I've been trying to keep my composure. I'm not very good at it though. For his sake, I feel a bit of relief. I, of course, wanted Molly to live for as long as possible, but, on the other hand, have often worried about how her death would affect him. He is at a point in which it is very difficult to know how much he understands. Some days he really surprises me like yesterday when I told him to get his backpack at school, and he went back in and picked his out of the bunch of them and brought it out to me. I was very proud.

I tried bring her her usual favorite toys, but she ignored them

Now I'm picking up writing on the blog now that my baby is gone. It is so difficult for me to believe that she is really gone for good. I had left off on the blog writing to give my full attention to Molly until I had to go pick Eric up from school. From then on, I had him come by where Molly was to play. He helped me to bring her water to drink, but obviously didn't understand that anything was wrong.

Eric was sitting with Molly, but then saw the camera and wanted it for himself!

When Mauri got home, it was getting late, so he rushed Molly to the back of the car. I couldn't help but feel like he was taking things too quickly. It almost felt like either didn't feel anything, or was trying to get things over with right away. I had made Molly some hamburgers, and gave Mauri some to give to her. At first he was hesitant, but then gave in and said that he guessed it didn't matter anymore. Of course, what I didn't realize was that it was because he was still holding onto a bit of hope that something could be done for Molly. He hadn't given up on her yet. I was exhausted after not having slept last night, after having woken up sick to my stomach, and after a full day of emotional trauma of trying to give Molly as beautiful a last day as I could. It was almost eerie how beautiful such a horrible day could be.

Eric brought Molly the water to see if she wanted to drink

We headed towards the vet, but made a stop by Mauri's parents' house so that his mother could say goodbye. Eric and I had gone in the other car because it has the carseat. Mauri had gone in our older car that has an ample trunk that is open to the rest of the car. When I arrived, I noticed that everybody was already teared up. That's when I realized how affected Mauri really was. He is always so strong and rarely shows emotion. In fact, I have often accused him (kiddingly) of being a robot without emotion. As hard as he tried to hide it, though, he no longer could. He was just as heartbroken as I was. In fact, by that point, he seemed to be handing it worse than me.

Maybe its because I had already spent all night and a lot of the day crying while he had held his composure at work, or maybe it was because I had all day to fully prepare myself, but I was amazingly calm. Don't get me wrong, I shed a few more tears, but I almost felt relieved for the trauma to come to an end.

Like I said, Mauri held onto hope until the very last moment, and asked the vet if there was anything we could do for her anymore. He offered to give us something to try to get her to be able to stand up, but said that, at the very most, it would be for a couple of hours one day, and then that each day afterward it would depend. Nothing would get her to where she was a few days ago, though, and these drugs would be very hard on her organs. His opinion was that it would only prolong her agony.

So, a very sad and defeated Mauri told them to continue. They weighed her, and I was surprised to see that she only weighed 24 kilos. I noticed when brushing her last night for the last time, that she did feel bony and fragile, but I didn't realize how much weight she had really lost. She always weighed around 30 kilos. Then, they had an impossible time of finding her veins. She was so skinny and bony that she barely had a pulse. They had to try with 3 different legs until they were successful. Meanwhile Mauri and I were petting her. I was talking to her and kissing her, and I pushed Mauri towards her head so that he could say his goodbyes. I don't know if I maintained composure so well because I didn't want Molly to be afraid, or if it was because I was worried about Mauri. I was actually thinking about that when I didn't notice that Molly had stopped breathing. That is, until Mauri ran out of the room. He later said it was because he saw her face suddenly change and that he thought that they had taken things way too quickly. I, though, had even watched youtube videos of people losing pets today (talk about punishing myself), and said that I thought that was how it always was.

I made Molly hamburgers to eat

He had run out of the room as quickly as he could. I, on the other hand was frozen there. I couldn't move. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I just kept kissing her and telling her that it would be ok; but it wasn't. She was gone and wasn't ever coming back. She would never nudge my hand with her head to get me to pet her. She would never hit her nose against her bowl in her strange little eating ritual ever again. I lightly brushed her eyes closed and gave her another kiss, and waited for Mauri to get his composure and come back to say his goodbye.

It turns out later on that he felt like he had failed her. She had trusted us, and we had brought her there. We had given up on her. But we hadn't. Until the very last moment we were giving her all of the vitamins and medicines and special foods that we could to help maintain her as comfortable as possible. If we had held out, the nerve degeneration would have made her heart and lungs stop. That, though, is what Mauri had been hoping for. I can't say that I didn't feel the same way. He wanted her to go peacefully at her house with all of us there for her. We shouldn't have to be the ones to decide when it was her time. I have to admit that I didn't want to bring her to the vet because it was a place that had always terrified her. Today, though, she was unusually calm. I don't know if she knew what was happening, but she obviously knew we were only trying to help her.

The vet congratulated us on having her make it to 14 and a half years old. It is considered old for a golden retriever. Only five weeks ago, her brother Appel, had also died victim of the very same fate. Still, Mauri is trying to overcome the guilt of feeling like he has killed her. I, on the other hand, am very sad, but relieved. I saw her so peacefully sleeping there when we left, that I felt a little bit better than I had been for the last couple of days.

I had a hard time leaving her there, though. That's what made me feel empty. So, we decided to pay an extra small fortune so that I can at least bring her ashes home with me. I think it's the least we could do. Although Mauri isn't a big fan of burial rituals or the like, he never questioned my need to have her remains.

I'm not sure what I will do with them when I get them. I saw an artist once who painted pictures and added the tiniest bit of the ashes to the paint to make a memorial piece. I could also scatter them where she always used to be outside. Maybe I will save the tiniest bit, just to have a part of her always near me. Hopefully it will give me closure. For now, I feel a bit empty, and sad.

Eric played with Sheena, but got mad when she wouldn't give him her frisbee

As for Eric, when we got home, I told him to give Sheena a piece of bread. Despite Mauri's warnings that she is getting overweight, I gave him another piece to give to her. She deserves it today, after all; she has also lost her aunt and dear friend. In the past, we'd give Eric foods to give to them, and say "Give this to Sheena" and he would, and then "Give this to Molly," and he would. He could tell them apart. He seemed confused that tonight we didn't say "Give it to Molly," and when we gave him the second slice of bread, he seemed to be looking for her. So, he obviously noticed that something was up. Hopefully, though, he is too young for it to affect him very much.

As you can see

We'll see what happens tomorrow. He is used to giving Molly her pills each morning, and then laughing. Hopefully he won't miss that sweet ritual. Here's a movie showing him giving her her pills on a couple of different days, followed by a clip of Molly today.