My Mom and my brother have had to put one of my last remaining dogs, O'Keeffe, to sleep. I say "my", by which I mean family pets who have of course remained in the US. Growing up I had a series of dogs - Shane, Toto, Liberty, Talon, O'Keeffe and Rigel. Shane died when I was 12, Toto when I was 13, Liberty when I was 21 and visiting The Dude in the UK, Talon not long before I moved over here, and of course, now O'Keeffe.
O'Keeffe was 16 years old and had apparently gone blind within the past week, having already gone deaf awhile ago. She was already a mere slip of a terrier due to her age, and due to suspected kidney failure had started to lose even more weight. My Mom and my brother decided yesterday that it was unfair to make her carry on in that state, and she was put to sleep yesterday afternoon. I was fortunate enough to talk to my brother beforehand, so he gave her a kiss for me. My Mom was there with her when she passed away, stroking her head and telling Keeffe that we loved her, just as my Mom has done for all of the dogs that have gone before. She said Keeffe knew she was there, and lifted up her head when my Mom sat down beside her.
I'm struggling not only with her death, but with what it signifies - the death of yet another part of my childhood. So much of my past seems to slip away with each year, leaving me with memories rather than anything palpable. The pessimistic part of me, well, that being all of me, knows it only gets worse from here. The sale of the house I grew up in has already occurred, my parents have divorced, pets have died, and the rest is a slow decline. I know some of you have lost parents and/or siblings, so my pet lamentation may seem ridiculous. I do feel a bit silly for being so childish.
Sorry for being so bloody negative and depressing. All my posts lately seem to be about drama and histrionics, for which I apologise. Wrist-slashing melodrama aside, here is my Keeffe:
Keeffe as a puppy trying to get the last bits of food out of Liberty's bowl.
That's Keeffe in the centre, playing tug of war with Libby. Talon is off to the right, barking like an idiot, as he never participated in any sort of play. He was a purebred cast-off, as having only one ball and a snaggle tooth doesn't make a very good show dog. He was a complete blue blood, far too good to join the other mutts in rough and tumble stuff.
Good luck wherever you may be, little one. May you have infinite bones to try and bury beneath the carpet, no fleas to bite you, and thousands of balls to chase for miles.