Quote:
Originally Posted by SnikPlosskin
How did I never notice that beauty in your avatar?
I’m sorry. This is the price we pay. We owe them this. We can’t let our hurt prolong their hurt.
I’ve never heard Hanna cry. Until yesterday. It was heart breaking to be holding her in my arms after a terrible seizure (I think the fourth one in 8 hours) and hear her crying. She was so weak from seizing it was more of a whimper. She couldn’t lift her head. She couldn’t see. She was terrified. I know she could hear me. I continually talked to her and held her through it all. I was up 16 hours with her.
I’ve always been the one that holds them and talks to them while the drugs kick in. This time I handed the baton to my son. Hanna was his dog. Their bond was incredible. She went bananas when he came to visit. I wish I would have got it on video.
I told him “you are grown up now, you should be the one.” He held her to her last breath. As a father you wish you could take the pain away but you can’t. I removed the dog tags and gave them to him.
It’s odd today. There is almost no trace of her. The bloody towels are washed (from biting her tongue), her dish is cleaned and put away. Shadow is searching for her. And this is left.
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Sorry, my friend. It’s so hard.
I had my little calico cat for 19 years. She was my little companion every morning when I would make coffee or get ready for work. Every day. That first day after she was gone was very odd. Just like you described.
