Susie was my dad's dog. After Dad died she came to live with me.
She was 17 years old this spring. The thing about Susie was that she never showed any arthritis symptoms, never slowed down. Her eyes were a little filmy and she was deaf as a radish but there were no other concessions to the passing of time. She ran like a pup. She was grumpy sometimes and there was the occasional skirmish with Babe for position of Top Bitch of the Universe. (Babe won; Susie had to go to get her eye stitched.)
Each of my dogs has at least one special trick -- and Susie's was her sneezing. Years ago she sneezed and I must have praised her a lot, because she would do it on cue. I'd fake a sneeze at her and she'd make herself sneeze back. That was her trick and she always seemed proud of herself for doing it. We called it the Sneezle Game.
Although I knew she was very old, something like a hundred thirty in human years, I wasn't prepared to say goodbye and was astonished that the time came so quickly. Monday she was outside in the yard as always, time came to let the dogs and in and prepare their dinner and she ran in as she always did. She wasn't around when I got to her portion, though -- odd. I went to find her, thinking maybe she'd fallen asleep. I found her in her bed and one look made me believe she'd had a stroke. Mary came and said she felt very hot. We took her to the emergency vet and her fever was over 105. They hooked her to an IV and we took her home. I was up all night, changing wet towels and putting ice packs -- the fever went down but not more than a degree or two all night. Susie didn't seem to be in pain but when she tried to stand she fell and her paws were curled in. In the morning I went to brush my teeth and when I returned she was halfway across the room, apparently trying to get outside to poop but unable to get away from the IV line.
I called Mary and said I was ready to let her go.
Duke had not left her at all, staying close with his head next to hers. They were friends.
Mary came -- on her lunch hour, bless her heart -- with an injection to make Susie fall asleep, so that her final conscious moments were of her own bed, her friend cats and dogs, and me petting her. Then I drove her to the vet where Dr. Broda injected a drug to cause death.
I miss her. I miss her. She and Duke slept beside my bed and it just doesn't seem right with her not there.
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