Abby died tonight, 12/15/2008, at 12:45am. She died in my arms by lethal injection. Her respirations had become so labored, even with oxygen via nasotracheal tube, that all of her energy was being expended on one thing; breathing. I called xxxx and told him that I thought he should think about "it" soon. So, he talked to the vet and gave the okay, and I held her in my arms as the vet pushed the medication into her IV. I tried to tell her "good girl", but my voice was quaking with the tears, and it came out in just a choked whisper. I don't know if she even heard me over her labored breathing. My tears fell on her as her breathing and heartbeat came to a stop. The snow was falling, and the world was quiet and peaceful as I drove home.
Every time you lose a dog, you think of all the times you let them down. All the times you ever yelled or used harsh words, all the times you should have walked them or played with them, all the times you were less than the best dog owner ever, and this is no exception for me. I learned so much from little Abby, and despite all of my mistakes with her, she never failed to show me unconditional love, loyalty, and complete trust.
Abby was adopted from the pound in January of 1997 (her age was estimated to be 10-12 months, and she had already borne a litter of puppies), following the death of my beloved Shade, which had been so painful that I swore I would never get another dog. Yet something seemed missing, so we went to the pound, and there we found this little black and white dog that leapt into xxxx's arms and right into his heart.
Abby didn't care much for other dogs (to say the least), though she did tolerate Lucky, and she absolutely adored people. She practically lived for human contact. She was deathly afraid of fireworks and thunder. She played well with kitties, especially little Blackberry, with whom she would "box" and wrestle. Abby was a very bouncy, energetic dog, and even climbed a 10,000 foot mountain peak.
Run free, Sweet Abby, 1996-2008.
Every time you lose a dog, you think of all the times you let them down. All the times you ever yelled or used harsh words, all the times you should have walked them or played with them, all the times you were less than the best dog owner ever, and this is no exception for me. I learned so much from little Abby, and despite all of my mistakes with her, she never failed to show me unconditional love, loyalty, and complete trust.
Abby was adopted from the pound in January of 1997 (her age was estimated to be 10-12 months, and she had already borne a litter of puppies), following the death of my beloved Shade, which had been so painful that I swore I would never get another dog. Yet something seemed missing, so we went to the pound, and there we found this little black and white dog that leapt into xxxx's arms and right into his heart.
Abby didn't care much for other dogs (to say the least), though she did tolerate Lucky, and she absolutely adored people. She practically lived for human contact. She was deathly afraid of fireworks and thunder. She played well with kitties, especially little Blackberry, with whom she would "box" and wrestle. Abby was a very bouncy, energetic dog, and even climbed a 10,000 foot mountain peak.
Run free, Sweet Abby, 1996-2008.