Jessie gave up long walks a few months ago. Last week Bob and I invited her on a ten minute walk down the road, and she sat at the edge of the driveway and cried: it was too hard for her to come.
She skipped breakfast and barely ate dinner on Thursday. Friday she ate three kernels of popcorn, and when she got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom in the woods, she slipped and fell in her feces. I showered her Saturday morning, and we went for lunch at a friend’s house. She had a nice visit, drank from the pond, and that was her last water.
She messed herself when she got home, so I gave her another shower and she never got up again.
Sunday morning we carried her into the living room and had a nice morning. She ate two tiny pieces of egg from my fingers and wouldn’t drink a drop. She couldn’t move any more, said goodbye at some length, and we made a 1:00 appointment at the Humane Society (who were extremely nice). By 2:30 she was buried in a shallow grave under a tree
where she can see the gardens she helped plant on one side
and a mountain peak on the other.
It would have been a lot harder without Rick, who helped carry her like a princess to the car, and who returned to help dig her grave.
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