Monday, September 8, 2008

Farewell, my Friend

The day I brought him home. Aug. 1996



With Carter, Sept. 2000



The last picture I have of him when he was healthy.

Sorry about the fuzzy pictures. I took pictures of pictures.


This morning I had my Dallas put to sleep. He was so miserable. He couldn't breathe and was exhausting himself trying. Among my grief, I acknowledge the answered prayers of a loving Heavenly Father. Yesterday was Fast Sunday. (A once-a-month Sunday we Mormons set aside to fast and pray-see here) Anyway, yesterday I said a special prayer that I would know when "it was time". Dallas was struggling, for sure, but deciding whether a pet lives or dies is a big responsibility and I didn't want to get it wrong. I told Heavenly Father that I didn't want him to suffer, and to please help me to know when it was time to let him go. Well, let me tell you a little bit about Dallas. He hated medicine. If I tried to give him liquid medicine he completely acted like I was trying to poison him. He'd spit, sputter, gag, fight, shake his head, and on and on. That includes the last few days, as I've had four different meds to give him. So, last night was the same, although I could tell his breathing was getting worse. This morning when I tried to give him his medicine it was like he'd turned to stone. He just stood there. The medicine pooled in his mouth and then slowly trickled back out. He still just stood there. That was my first sign. So I called the vet, told them what was going on, and they asked me to bring him right in. On the way to drop off my two youngest kids at mom and dads' house, Dallas pottied on my leg. Gross, yes, but another sign that he was too weak to go outside the doggy door and go potty, AND that then he didn't have the strength to hold it. He hasn't done that since he was a puppy. I had my answer. I knew that no matter how long we drug this thing on, Dallas was going to lose the fight. I knew, then, that it was indeed time to relieve his suffering. He did great, I didn't do so great. I will miss him dearly, and for a long time, I'm sure, but I know that he is well. I know that he isn't struggling anymore. I thank my Father in heaven for caring and answering my prayers, even when it's concerning my pets. Goodbye, puppy.

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