First part of this story is that I lost my best friend and companion of 16 years, Mick. April 23. It was a horrible, expected day and my heart is still broken. There are days it comes from nowhere and hurts so badly. It's only been 2 months he's been gone, but I feel it like it's only yesterday. We had an awful last night together, he was hemoraghing and bleeding out slowly. It all started after we took out the trash, so I always connect Thursday trash to Mick's last night. We came in the house and I gave him some chicken jerky- his "crack." He had a hard time swallowing it and choked on it. I think he choked so hard he broke open a tumor. He started a nosebleed and was quiet. When I saw the blood I checked on him, and he seemed ok. I cleaned things up and he laid down. Now, looking back, I remember laying with him, trying to figure it all out. He licked my nose and looked like he was done. I lay with him for a while, then got busy finishing up for the night. He walked down the hall, sneezed and it looked like a murder scene- blood everywhere. I shooed him outside to let him work through it. I checked on him a little later and he was covered in blood on his muzzle. I called the vet- and I don't know how he understood a single thing I said, but he said it didn't sound good. I really don't think he thougth we'd last the night. Mick coughed up blood all night. I left him outside, where he was comfortable. I would go out and sit with him until I got too cold, then I'd come in to warm up. Then, it was back out with him again. Finally about 5 am, he laid down, just exhausted, I'm sure. I laid onthe frozen ground with him, watching a gorgeous late spring sunrise. He finally quieted some and started to sleep. In his sleep, he started to shiver, so I brought one of his many blankets to keep him warm and comfy.
He took his last ride in his truck to the vet that Friday morning. I thought for sure he'd lay at the back of the truck, but he got into "his spot." Then at the vet, he didn't want out, but once I coaxed and pushed him out, he didn't struggle at all- not like him. He stayed at the vet Friday night, they called Saturday morning and told me he was doing better, so I stopped for a visit. He wasn't great, and I told him he could go. He didn't have to hold on for me any longer. I'd be ok. He was tired. I left, looking forward to a visit later in the day. When I got home, the vet called earlier than I was expecting and said we needed to take care of him. He was going downhill quickly.
The poor vet had had several awful experiences and was tired of animals dying in his care, I think and just wanted to fix Mick for me. We knew it was time, though. Poor old man, he didn't need to suffer more. Dr Stav was so kind to me and to my boy. It was about 3:30 April 25th, I said goobye.
I was so devastated. My heart has been broken and aches for the comfort and familiarity of that boy. He took the place of any children I could have had. He became my world. My commitment to him was just a part of life. I would think of him while I was at work, or anywhere else. I always looked forward to seeing him when I got home. Sometimes I got frustrated by his solitary ways, but I knew he was my boy. I looked forward to seeing him in the morning. I always knew where he was, even if I couldn't see him, I could feel his presence. I've never looked forward to death. It's time will come, but I never have anticipated it at all. After Mick left, I felt for the first time how I will be happier dead. I'll meet up with my best pup there. And he'll be the goofy fellow I loved for all those years.
I still sleep with his collar, knowing he's still close to me. I had him cremated and they sent him home to me in a cookie tin! It's just so cheesy... Until his ashes came home, I didn't feel he was around. I was empty. When I got him home, it felt better to me. I discovered within a week that there was no way I could exist alone. I immediately began the search for my new companion. That will be my next post, how Grace come into my world.
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