Emily is gone. Probably the sweetest dog ever. I had to put her to sleep on July 4th. She was having a lot of trouble breathing because of swollen lymph nodes near her heart and lungs. They suggested a treatment that would give her another month, but would likely be more painful, and might not work.
That same morning I let everyone close to her know so they could come say goodbye. She was ready. I could deal with her being in pain and needing medication, but I couldn’t deal with her being so scared that she couldn’t breathe. She looked up at me like she’s done for thirteen years. She never, ever questioned a decision I made.
She told me lots of things, mostly with her eyes. Nellie, my other dog, who is currently teaching me about patience, Nellie tells me things with her feet, and through noises and jumping. Emily could look up at me and say “I see you’re going to the kitchen. I believe my water bowl is getting a little dry. Could you please fill it up with some nice fresh water? It’s getting so hot outside and it would be very refreshing.”
Yeah- that’s a very specific look. I know. She had several of them.
She also had a look that said “I know you got this other dog to keep me company. While I appreciate the gesture, the dog knows no boundaries and appears to be trying to eat my legs, and she always wants to play chase. Can you do something about this? Thanks.”
That’s actually a look I got several times. Emily is not just sweet, but very polite.
I didn’t like having a choice about whether to put her to sleep. It made me, (for probably two full seconds) look around the room for someone who would either give me another answer, or make my choice clear. But when I looked at how scared she was, and knew that postponing it would be selfish.. it was pretty easy. She gave me the ‘it’s time for me to go’ look.
OK it might have been a “GET ME OUT OF HERE” look, or a “Please make me not so scared and hurt” look. Either way, I knew it was the right decision. I sat with her and got her to calm down, after about ten minutes her breathing was almost back to a steady pace. I held her head and made some noises I will never repeat to get her to build up enough energy to give me some last kisses. When she gives you kisses, it’s two or three extra gentle, very deliberate (but not sloppy) licks on your cheek.
Then I rang the bell that brings the person who gives the overdose of anesthesia and pain killers.
It happened really quickly- just a couple minutes. She quietly fell asleep.
A couple days later I told the boys, and they handled it well.
little h said that he’s not crying because he had already heard about Emily’s death at his mom’s house, and cried there for twenty minutes. He also said to H that maybe he should put off the sadness until later. :/
Big H cried for a while, then disappeared into the front room where he wrote down all the pets that have died.
1. Emily
2. Memphis
3. Emily’s sister (Lucy)
4. Daisy (a rat)
5. Sophie (a rat)
6. Neon’s friend (a lizard)
7. Max
8. Beta Fish
9. The fish that died from hose (Tito, a puffer fish- long story)
10. Big Lips (I think he means hot lips, a fish at his mom’s)
11. The sucker fish (actually three of them)
12. The tiger fish (more like eleven or so, but they look the same)
13. Percy (fish)
14. American Wonder (hahah, a red white and blue angel fish)
15. The water frog
Keep in mind, at my house, fish funerals last over twenty minutes. Harps actually said this about one of them: “He was more than just a fish.. he was a friend..”
He cried, wrote this list, cried some more, then started playing with Hen. At bed time he had a sleepover with Hen, who brought the panda, the giant elephant, and the wolf.
I picked up her ashes yesterday. They’re in a bag- and I remember the first thing I thought was.. “this is the strangest weight”
It was so odd to think that’s her remains. I don’t know what I was expecting. I also don’t know what to do with the ashes. She’ll definitely fit in something small. Not so much when she was living. Here’s a picture of her when she thought she was small enough to go through the dog door.
I’ll miss you Em, but I’m glad you’re getting a really good nap. That’s pretty much your favorite thing. 
