I've written about Avery in the past. She's been a big part of my life... even with my Kung Fu and chi work. This is not a blog I want to write, but I also feel I need to.
She came to me 15 years ago during a really difficult time. I had a miscarriage, and although I didn't realize it at the time, I was pretty depressed afterward. Avery was the one who pulled me back.
We had fostered for SCARS for a couple of years by that point and had several dogs pass through our home, as well as met many, many more at various events. We always said we wouldn't adopt because that meant we wouldn't be able to foster anymore. But then, when I was at an adoption event for our current foster, I saw Avery and, without hesitation, she came home with me.
I've always described her as my soul mate. We knew each other from the beginning. We had a connection... which is so hard to explain... but so simple and obvious to me.
Her physical health started to fail a few years ago. We've done anything and everything we could, and she always seemed to pull through. But over the last couple of weeks, it became apparent that things were getting worse. She was having a much harder time getting up and lying down. She was pacing and panting, I believe because she was becoming so uncomfortable she didn't know what else to do. She came to me often, obviously anxious, reaching out for help and comfort. And there was nothing I could do for her.
We had gone to the vet and had increased her pain medication as much as we could. In the back of my mind, I was worried and scared. But I hoped it would pass.
She eventually started to stumble and lose most of her control, and just the way she walked and stood had changed. And I knew this wasn't going to pass.
Thursday night, without even really speaking about it, Dan and I both knew it was her time. And after two weeks of her pacing, restlessness, and being unable to settle down or be comfortable, once the decision had been made, she lay down and slept. The whole house suddenly seemed peaceful and calm. It was as if she had finally gotten the message across and was able to rest.
I stayed up with her that whole night. She slept, and I lay beside her, knowing we didn't have much more time together.
I called in the morning to make arrangements for that afternoon. We spent most of the day just sitting quietly or going for some last walks together. And, of course, sitting under her favourite tree where she'd always get so sappy that I thought for sure the vet would think she was neglected.
It really was a perfect day.
When it neared the time to go, and I was getting a few things ready, she stood up, tail wagging, and went to the van. She even tried to get in when I was closing the door, looking at me, confused. Dan told me later that she stood there beside the van waiting for me to come back and even nudged the door a couple of times. It was like she knew. And she was ready, eager even, to get going.
The entire ride there, and leading right up to the final goodbye, she had her smiling face on... one we knew well, but hadn't seen in some time. She was ready to go.
I really believe she was telling us something as she worsened. And I really believe that once we listened and made the decision, she was finally able to relax. And I really do believe she was ready to go.
And although this gives me some comfort in knowing that this was the right decision, and I'm so glad that she seemed ready... I was not. I am not.
I'm trying to remember gratitude for the 15 years I got with her. I really am. That's a lot of years for a dog, and I know we were extremely lucky to have that time with her.
But honestly, right now, I'm just lost and broken and sad.
And I just miss her.
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