Today marks one year since little Callie had to be “put to sleep”. Technically, the word “euthanasia ” means “peaceful death”, but I fear that I sounded callous when I said to the veterinarian, “I think we need to euthanize her.”
I was struggling to maintain my composure: what else would I do? I was in the presence of a stoic and very professional man, and truth be known, the only guy I wanted a hug from was Gary. Still, after the dreadful deed was done and I tried to write a cheque, Dr. Vogel quietly and kindly offered, “The decision you made was not inappropriate.”
Callie was one pet that I believe I made all the right decisions for. (I cannot say this for my every pet from the past.) Starting from when we used to board Callie for the nice friend who rescued her from a backyard breeder/puppy mill, I loved that little dog. I would make rather off-the-cuff comments such as, “We adore her so much, she could stay forever!”
When the evening came that her owner phoned and asked if we were serious and would take her, I had to admit to Gary what I’d been saying, and give him a vote of sorts. Callie came to stay.
I have not had many lap dogs, really. I never tired of having that tiny mite beside me on the furniture when I stopped running around. I can’t think of a moment that I regretted taking her. My heart felt like bursting when the vet said, “You gave this animal the best two years of her life.” Callie wasn’t young, but I wish I’d had more years in her company. Dr. Vogel believed my pet suffered a “brain bleed”, and that is a fate which can befall any creature of any age, no matter what their health status otherwise.
So far, Callie is the little animal friend that I miss the most, ever. I don’t want to think of the day that we’re without Lady.
That is all. Thank you for reading my blog.