#mistybeebforever

[haptureratch]

Misty died today. I loved her more than anything in this world. She was with me every single day for the past few months. I’m happy for that. I am writing this right next to the place  where she had, unbeknowst to me, began to die. That poor little baby. She was acting strange while she laid in the blanket. Picking her head up to look around in a daze, or like a toddler fighting bedtime, before the sleepies pulled her head back down. I thought my noises of procrastination were keeping her awake. I was going to carry her downstairs to her cozy bed so she could sleep soundly. I didn’t pick her up. I walked over to the double doors of the bonus room and beckoned her toward me. She got up and could not walk straight, she veered to the left. I looked at the limbs on that side, they weren’t moving well and weren’t supporting her weight. I immediately turned the light on to see her better and knelt down. She sat in a tiny pillar at my feet and looked up at me with wide nervous eyes. I knew it was the end. I wonder what she thought. I’ve still got the scent of the vet’s office in my nostrils. And the urine she had held onto with such determination. No voiding. No accidents. Until there were no nerve signals left for her body to follow. We even held her in the grass twice and she didn’t go. (my mom and I) I got my “dying wish” -- to be with her, to hold her as she went. The most I fell apart was before we were even out of the house. I lost it a handful of times thinking about The Moment or what I would say to other people or things like that. While we were there, I felt strong. It was hard but I knew I wanted this. I loved her so much I wanted to be there holding her as she faded away. She must have been so scared. My left arm supported her neck, my hand cradled her jaw. My right arm wrapped all the way around the rest of her. And I just held her close and tight over mom. One of her blankets, too. I will keep her blankets forever. And the anatomy heart. I might keep her beds in my room until I’m ready to let those go. I don’t want to today. She was so nervous as we got ready to leave. But that’s her norm. There was no stopping it. Stroke or no stroke, she would have been a nervous wreck in the car and at the vet’s office. She fought against her condition so much. Pure adrenaline pushed her up on her legs as she tried to reposition and see everything outside of the windows while we were parked in front of the final place. She was barking at dogs and cars and people. For a second Mom wondered if we were doing the right thing, if she was too alive to be euthanized. Nope, she’s just ready to throw down up until her last hour and live out her last moments as a true Anxiety Queen (TM). It’s amazing how much spark came back to her as we stalled in the parking lot. It also made us feel terrible for her as there was no way to alleviate her fears. And we didn’t even know exactly what they were. I should note that in the house she was pretty lifeless after I woke up from my ill, incomplete sleep (that I definitely felt guilty for taking instead of continuing to watch her and reassure her). She seemed happy to see me awake, almost like she was waiting for me to join her again. At some point during the night I remember feeling movements. She had managed to flip herself over onto her bad side using her strong side. That maneuver made me think it could be a TIA and she’d start recovering... That time after carrying her gently downstairs, showing her deficits to my parents, them cradling her and preparing for the beginning of the end, and me calling Rilley and readying myself for the night ahead---- that was when I tried so hard to do what Rilley told me. I tried to savor it, pet her, kiss her, smell her, talk to her, comfort her. I tried to change my energy and give her reassurance like google said to. I tried nuzzling her, repositioning her, recapturing the intimacy and bond we shared every time she laid with me. The times studying or just relaxing. (Again, I am so glad I got to have these slowed down days and really live with her.) She had a dream around 1:45am if I remember the time correctly. She growled in her sleep and did the sleep-bark chirping. I wonder what she was dreaming of. I hope it was her living her best life, telling the world the fuck what was up. She may have had one or two other dreams, smaller. Then I felt too sick to keep going and tried to sleep. Mom took over when she woke up. I told her I hadn’t slept. I forgot what I did when I got my relief. The rest of that time was spent by us taking turns holding Misty, trying to make sure she was comfortable. Trying to get her to close her eyes and sleep. Sometimes she did, sometimes she glanced around with a little uneasiness and trepidation. The latter got worse as time wore on. We tried letting her be outside a couple times. Once earlier to just pee. She couldn’t hold herself up (much to my sadness, though I accepted that this was no TIA). So we tried to hold her in a squat. She wouldn’t pee. The second time we brought her out, I now she enjoyed the feeling of sun on her fur and breeze blow past her nose. She had a flicker of that contented-dog-outside look in her eyes as she lifted her nose to sample the air. We let her lay in the grass one more time. It was a short moment but I tried to save the snapshot-- sunny sky, shaded grass, warm black fur, clear breeze. I hoped she could forget what was going on for just a brief second. I hoped she could really enjoy that one last time. It was heaven until we noticed bugs jumping on her. Mom had brought a towel for her to lay on in the shade since I was worried she might overheat in the direct sunlight. We really saw the bugs against that white towel. She was on the patio couch for a bit after that. Mom took over. I think I ate, they came in, and I needed my stomach to settle before I took over. I went to the bathroom and my god damn period came. Hesitant to take nsaids because of my stomach but wanting relief so I could hold my baby, I steadily took one then two then three. I laid on Mom’s side of the bed trying to let them pass. I lost some time there but it’s all I could do. They were so strong...like in high school. Before the cramps hit (or maybe during, who knows) there was a lot of calling around to see who’d allow us to hold her as she passed. Or if someone could come to the house. So much calling around. A plan was finally set. Leave at 2:30. Appointment at 3. I didn’t even see the place walking in, pretty much just walking out. She shivered so much. I just tried to hold her and press my face into the top of her head. And rub over her ears and eyes. Something ending in a -zine was given for anxiety. My hope was to take the edge off so we could spend our last moments without so much fear. She stopped shaking when the vet came in and Mom started talking. I told her us talking really calms Misty down. Then the propofol was given. She fell asleep. The vet kept trying to talk to us but I had to drown him out. I wanted all of my senses to make memories of her, not him. My dog is dying, I really don’t care about anything else man. Then a clear pale pink-to-purple mixture of phenobarbital-something was given and she went just a little limper. She urinated on me but I didn’t care; I signed up for every part of this. I forgot to feel her heart stop beating but it was better to have kept holding her so securely. It wasn’t fair how her cute little arm was bent up just like it is when she sleeps. She didn’t “turn” the way humans do when the light goes out. I was happy for this. She just looked like she was asleep. I saw her from above as I held her, and then straight on when she was on the table. Her eyes didn’t scare me. They did not look sad, just asleep. So relieved for it. I kept looking at her because I had to take in that she was completely still. I had to watch her a know the chest was not moving. I needed closure. I hugged and pet her dead body over and over again. It wasn’t weird to me. I wanted to take home part of her, like an ear so I would never forget the softness of that little velvet triangle. Or her paw since that seems less creepy (rabbit foots). I encircled my arms around her one last time, the way I always did when she was sleeping so adorably in her bed. One more time, beebee. Mom helped me tuck her into the vet office blanket on that metal table. I can’t count how many times I kissed and nuzzled her. I called her baby, weedle, weeble, Middy, Misty. I told her I loved her, I will miss her so much. Go to sleep, go nuh-nigh.

----

The night before.... When I was savoring her.... The top of her head smelled just like when she was a puppy.