Our days were now spent just laying around - cuddling, special bonding time... One afternoon, cuddled together I saw a circle of small, bright, flickering lights -- just sort of twinkling in the air. I looked at Nee and she was also following those small lights with her eyes. We lay like that for a while, and I told her it was Nanny and some of her other friends getting ready to take her to her forever home; a home where she would never hurt or be sick, never be lonely, always be able to run -- a new, joyous, beautiful home. I told her I'd miss her so much but I knew she'd come back someday to take me there also. The lights disappeared as quickly as they appeared and I knew what I told her was true... it was almost time.
Another day, as I lay cuddled with her, I thought back to my Mom's funeral, and how I had held onto my Nee and cried my heart out. I said to her "but who will I hold onto when you leave"? I cried to God "what will I do Lord, what will I do". Before I knew it, I had Nee wrapped up in my arms, face against her fur, crying and crying -- crying for what seemed like hours, soaking her fur, inhaling her precious scent. My tears eventually turned to joy when I realized that, once again, I had been given a precious gift. Nee was there to comfort me -- before the fact this time. I knew that had been my goodbye to her and she had helped me through it.
One night, preparing for sleep -- Nee, a willing captive, lying peacefully at my side - I made a blanket tent for us. Of course, my arms and legs were the tent poles. I knew Nee wasn't real crazy about staying under a blanket very long; her heavy fur demanded coolness. I didn't expect her to lay under it long. Once again, she surprised me -- she peered down the length of the blanket to the far end where my legs held the back of the "tent" up. Then she maneuvoured her body around to peek out the front - into the light; then back around to peer down the tunnel. She continued this for some time until my arms and legs couldn't hold the tent up any more. I settled us again and ten minutes later she was nudging me with her head and tossing the blanket. She wanted more tent...so up it went again. She seemed fascinated with the other end of the tunnel and I sensed in my spirit there was more to this than I could understand at that moment. This continued until at 2 a.m. -- four hours later, I put the tent down for the last time. I talked to her about the journey she would soon be taking. I told her that she might see darkness for a moment, then she'd come through the tunnel into the Light; I told her I was pretty sure Nanny would be there to greet her, along with other friends. I told her there was nothing to worry about, she was going to her forever home and that I couldn't even explain how wonderful it would be for her. We settled then and slept.
Sunday ... two days after New Years Day ... Dr. Judy wasn't coming over; she had been with us every day since Christmas Eve. She let me know that if there was an emergency, to call her cell and she'd be right there. The day passed quietly, with Nee and I hunkered in, cuddled together. The next morning, I prepared to move her to her spot on the floor where she could see me from any direction. She winced as I moved her bed mattress under her and pulled it off the futon onto the floor. Throughout the day, whenever she tried to move, I saw that wince and knew she was in pain. At one point, attempting to get a clean pad under her, she reared back and grimaced. She hadn't had her pain medication for over a week, and laying immobile had exacerbated her joint condition. I called Dr. Judy mid-evening and while I waited for her, I pulled Nee's bed back over to the futon so we could sleep together. By this time she was in agony when I tried to move her. I opted for just moving her -- mattress and all on top of the futon. I wanted to be with her and hold on to her every possible moment. I cried out to God "Please, please let her go tonight. She's fought so, so hard to stay with me, I just can't bear the thought of making the decision to end her life. I just don't know what I'll do if she doesn't go tonight; I can't stand to see her in pain like this". Dr. Judy came by presently with a morphine patch that would ease Nee's pain. I was stricken when Dr. Judy shaved a huge patch of Nee's fur down to her bare skin so she could apply the patch. She said it would take four or five hours for the medication to be absorbed fully. She'd be back the next day to assess the situation and see if another patch was required. Nee and I slept. I wanted to stay awake to see her pain-free but sheer exhaustion prevented me from doing so. Any other night, I would have been up and about two or three times during the night but I didn't open my eyes again until 7:00 the next morning.
When I awoke, I turned to cuddle my little girl. I could feel that her body was semi-hard - rigor mortis was setting in; her spirit had departed - probably around 5 a.m. Her eyes were open, her head tilted slightly upward -- no doubt looking in those last few seconds at those friends who had come to guide her Home. Her face and mouth were relaxed and I knew she had gone pain-free and comfortable. I believe the morphine, while killing her pain, also relaxed her spirit enough to let go of her earthly trappings. Of course, I cried -- but I was so relieved for her. I knew I would miss her, but that I'd see her again someday.
I called Dr. Judy who came to make arrangements for cremation; I had to listen through the stethescope for myself to make sure there was no
faint heartbeat (even though, in reality, I knew there wouldn't be). My landlady came over with the handyman to start working on the ramp for outside. I told them not to bother. City workers came in to do some needed repairs in the basement. I called Chris, my delivery lady to return cases of unopened food back to the vet store. She ran around town doing errands for me all morning and when she got back, would not accept a cent from me. She said that was her way of showing her love. People were in and out all day, which was a blessing for me. I didn't have time to dwell on not having my Neea-Kha with me. Word got around the neighbourhood -- how could it not, when Dr. Judy and I carted Nee's body out on a blanket and spent several minutes attempting to get her body into the vetmobile. I wanted to be very gentle with her body, not just stuff it into the van. Dr. Judy was kind enough and patient enough to comply. Phone my sister in British Columbia to let her know. We talked about God's wonderful grace and His boundless love for all His creation. We marvelled at His lovingkindness in fulfilling the desires of our heart and of His perfect timing in His plans for each life He creates. I phoned Nee's (and my) special friends to let them know of her passing. Throughout the day, neighbours and friends came by - bringing cards, plants, flowers...what a beautiful tribute to my precious little girl. The little twin boys came to the door inquiring about Nee's well-being and I told them she had died this morning. They ran home and their mom told me later that they had burst in the door crying.
And then, it was quiet. So very quiet. No pitter-patter of paws, no snoring from a sleeping dog, no sense of spirit in our home, no needs to be met, nobody to pet and kiss and talk to and love....
Another day, as I lay cuddled with her, I thought back to my Mom's funeral, and how I had held onto my Nee and cried my heart out. I said to her "but who will I hold onto when you leave"? I cried to God "what will I do Lord, what will I do". Before I knew it, I had Nee wrapped up in my arms, face against her fur, crying and crying -- crying for what seemed like hours, soaking her fur, inhaling her precious scent. My tears eventually turned to joy when I realized that, once again, I had been given a precious gift. Nee was there to comfort me -- before the fact this time. I knew that had been my goodbye to her and she had helped me through it.
One night, preparing for sleep -- Nee, a willing captive, lying peacefully at my side - I made a blanket tent for us. Of course, my arms and legs were the tent poles. I knew Nee wasn't real crazy about staying under a blanket very long; her heavy fur demanded coolness. I didn't expect her to lay under it long. Once again, she surprised me -- she peered down the length of the blanket to the far end where my legs held the back of the "tent" up. Then she maneuvoured her body around to peek out the front - into the light; then back around to peer down the tunnel. She continued this for some time until my arms and legs couldn't hold the tent up any more. I settled us again and ten minutes later she was nudging me with her head and tossing the blanket. She wanted more tent...so up it went again. She seemed fascinated with the other end of the tunnel and I sensed in my spirit there was more to this than I could understand at that moment. This continued until at 2 a.m. -- four hours later, I put the tent down for the last time. I talked to her about the journey she would soon be taking. I told her that she might see darkness for a moment, then she'd come through the tunnel into the Light; I told her I was pretty sure Nanny would be there to greet her, along with other friends. I told her there was nothing to worry about, she was going to her forever home and that I couldn't even explain how wonderful it would be for her. We settled then and slept.
Sunday ... two days after New Years Day ... Dr. Judy wasn't coming over; she had been with us every day since Christmas Eve. She let me know that if there was an emergency, to call her cell and she'd be right there. The day passed quietly, with Nee and I hunkered in, cuddled together. The next morning, I prepared to move her to her spot on the floor where she could see me from any direction. She winced as I moved her bed mattress under her and pulled it off the futon onto the floor. Throughout the day, whenever she tried to move, I saw that wince and knew she was in pain. At one point, attempting to get a clean pad under her, she reared back and grimaced. She hadn't had her pain medication for over a week, and laying immobile had exacerbated her joint condition. I called Dr. Judy mid-evening and while I waited for her, I pulled Nee's bed back over to the futon so we could sleep together. By this time she was in agony when I tried to move her. I opted for just moving her -- mattress and all on top of the futon. I wanted to be with her and hold on to her every possible moment. I cried out to God "Please, please let her go tonight. She's fought so, so hard to stay with me, I just can't bear the thought of making the decision to end her life. I just don't know what I'll do if she doesn't go tonight; I can't stand to see her in pain like this". Dr. Judy came by presently with a morphine patch that would ease Nee's pain. I was stricken when Dr. Judy shaved a huge patch of Nee's fur down to her bare skin so she could apply the patch. She said it would take four or five hours for the medication to be absorbed fully. She'd be back the next day to assess the situation and see if another patch was required. Nee and I slept. I wanted to stay awake to see her pain-free but sheer exhaustion prevented me from doing so. Any other night, I would have been up and about two or three times during the night but I didn't open my eyes again until 7:00 the next morning.
When I awoke, I turned to cuddle my little girl. I could feel that her body was semi-hard - rigor mortis was setting in; her spirit had departed - probably around 5 a.m. Her eyes were open, her head tilted slightly upward -- no doubt looking in those last few seconds at those friends who had come to guide her Home. Her face and mouth were relaxed and I knew she had gone pain-free and comfortable. I believe the morphine, while killing her pain, also relaxed her spirit enough to let go of her earthly trappings. Of course, I cried -- but I was so relieved for her. I knew I would miss her, but that I'd see her again someday.
I called Dr. Judy who came to make arrangements for cremation; I had to listen through the stethescope for myself to make sure there was no
faint heartbeat (even though, in reality, I knew there wouldn't be). My landlady came over with the handyman to start working on the ramp for outside. I told them not to bother. City workers came in to do some needed repairs in the basement. I called Chris, my delivery lady to return cases of unopened food back to the vet store. She ran around town doing errands for me all morning and when she got back, would not accept a cent from me. She said that was her way of showing her love. People were in and out all day, which was a blessing for me. I didn't have time to dwell on not having my Neea-Kha with me. Word got around the neighbourhood -- how could it not, when Dr. Judy and I carted Nee's body out on a blanket and spent several minutes attempting to get her body into the vetmobile. I wanted to be very gentle with her body, not just stuff it into the van. Dr. Judy was kind enough and patient enough to comply. Phone my sister in British Columbia to let her know. We talked about God's wonderful grace and His boundless love for all His creation. We marvelled at His lovingkindness in fulfilling the desires of our heart and of His perfect timing in His plans for each life He creates. I phoned Nee's (and my) special friends to let them know of her passing. Throughout the day, neighbours and friends came by - bringing cards, plants, flowers...what a beautiful tribute to my precious little girl. The little twin boys came to the door inquiring about Nee's well-being and I told them she had died this morning. They ran home and their mom told me later that they had burst in the door crying.
And then, it was quiet. So very quiet. No pitter-patter of paws, no snoring from a sleeping dog, no sense of spirit in our home, no needs to be met, nobody to pet and kiss and talk to and love....