RIP, Lady Muck
Jun. 28th, 2012 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
venetia_sassyThe vet came over this afternoon. And in my head, I know it was the logical, rational decision. She died quietly, without pain. It wasn't drawn out, she didn't suffer. But oh god, I feel like a monster.
She was quiet today, sleepy, but when the vet arrived she bounced up to greet this new person who'd brought so many interesting smells and seemed quite happy. That ... didn't help.
The vet was lovely; he was very gentle with her and explained to us what would happen and gave her pats. The sedative took about five minutes to kick in ... she wandered around, getting more and more wobbly and dazed-looking until we persuaded her to lie down again. And it was awful. She didn't know what was going on. It was just another day for her, she didn't know what we'd decided. Her eyes were going blank and dim as she looked at me but she fought the sedative a bit, trying not to fall asleep. But she did. And the vet gave her the second injection. It didn't take long. And suddenly she was dead. I remember watching my father die (slowly and painfully.) There's such a clear difference between the living being and the dead body. One moment, there's a personality and in the next, it's just a body and to me it just feels so wrong to see that, that it just happens and it's done. Over.
I didn't want to look at her afterwards, I didn't want to see her like that. Mum (having better upper body strength than me) and the vet carried her down to his car in a blanket 'sling' and from a little distance, it looked like she was curled up sleeping.
We've buried one dog and two cats in this garden but while it is a good-sized garden there were only a few spots where large, deep holes could be dug. So the cremation people will pick her up from the vet clinic and we'll get the ashes next week. We'll bury the ashes though. Otherwise, I'd just be imagining The Boyo running through them. Or peeing on them. She does not deserve that!
I've been crying on and off all night. I wasn't expecting that. We've known this was coming for a long time. But her eyes. And I was patting The Boyo and he has lovely silky ears - but not like hers. And the house is so quiet. It's not like she was loud but there's this missing note and it's so quiet. Mum noticed it too and the music went on early this evening.There was no dog tripping me up as I made dinner and driving me nuts. There were no eyes staring at us as we ate, monitoring every mouthful.
When our last dalmatian died, Mum went out the next day and had a copy of one of favourite photos framed for me. It's still in my room. Tonight, she left something on the desk for me and I cried again when I saw it.
When Mum was in America last year, she came across a lovely dalmatian ornament (there are a lot of bad ones) and the facial markings were like Lady Muck's. She bought it to give it to me today - the dalmatian has wings and a halo. It should look silly - but it's lovely.
Oh and Lady Muck's real name? Indi. She drove us a little bit crazy for over thirteen years. But we loved her.
She was quiet today, sleepy, but when the vet arrived she bounced up to greet this new person who'd brought so many interesting smells and seemed quite happy. That ... didn't help.
The vet was lovely; he was very gentle with her and explained to us what would happen and gave her pats. The sedative took about five minutes to kick in ... she wandered around, getting more and more wobbly and dazed-looking until we persuaded her to lie down again. And it was awful. She didn't know what was going on. It was just another day for her, she didn't know what we'd decided. Her eyes were going blank and dim as she looked at me but she fought the sedative a bit, trying not to fall asleep. But she did. And the vet gave her the second injection. It didn't take long. And suddenly she was dead. I remember watching my father die (slowly and painfully.) There's such a clear difference between the living being and the dead body. One moment, there's a personality and in the next, it's just a body and to me it just feels so wrong to see that, that it just happens and it's done. Over.
I didn't want to look at her afterwards, I didn't want to see her like that. Mum (having better upper body strength than me) and the vet carried her down to his car in a blanket 'sling' and from a little distance, it looked like she was curled up sleeping.
We've buried one dog and two cats in this garden but while it is a good-sized garden there were only a few spots where large, deep holes could be dug. So the cremation people will pick her up from the vet clinic and we'll get the ashes next week. We'll bury the ashes though. Otherwise, I'd just be imagining The Boyo running through them. Or peeing on them. She does not deserve that!
I've been crying on and off all night. I wasn't expecting that. We've known this was coming for a long time. But her eyes. And I was patting The Boyo and he has lovely silky ears - but not like hers. And the house is so quiet. It's not like she was loud but there's this missing note and it's so quiet. Mum noticed it too and the music went on early this evening.There was no dog tripping me up as I made dinner and driving me nuts. There were no eyes staring at us as we ate, monitoring every mouthful.
When our last dalmatian died, Mum went out the next day and had a copy of one of favourite photos framed for me. It's still in my room. Tonight, she left something on the desk for me and I cried again when I saw it.
When Mum was in America last year, she came across a lovely dalmatian ornament (there are a lot of bad ones) and the facial markings were like Lady Muck's. She bought it to give it to me today - the dalmatian has wings and a halo. It should look silly - but it's lovely.
Oh and Lady Muck's real name? Indi. She drove us a little bit crazy for over thirteen years. But we loved her.
