Katie loves cookies
I've joked about this in the past, but I think for the last year, the only thing keeping my poor old beagle alive was the promise of a milk bone dog biscuit every day.
Today, that promise ran out. Last night, I snapped a photo of my poor old dog laying on the living room floor. She went outside as usual last night and followed me into the bedroom. She can't jump up on the bed anymore. She's just too old and weak.
This morning, something happened. Katie couldn't hardly stand up. She was disoriented. She fell down a couple of times and it took all her energy to go outside. When she came back in, she barely had the strength to break her cookie and she couldn't eat all of it.
If you've owned a beagle for a minute, you know that when they quit eating, the end is near. A beagle will eat even if it just ate.
They're fun dogs, but they're troublemakers, and they're gluttons.
And they don't live to be 15.
My 14 year anniversary of being in the house and having Katie is a week from today. I will still have the house. I won't have the dog.
I just spent the last few minutes laying on the floor with her, just petting her and loving her, and crying like a baby. Katie got me through Wendi, through Tami Jo, through Cindy. When my boys took some time away from me, Katie was there. When the nights were lonely, she was curled up behind my legs so I couldn't roll over. When I cried, she was there. When I had dinner, she was always there, demanding her bite. I always had the house. I always had the truck. I've been devoid of human company, but never alone because I always had Katie.
And sometime this week, I won't.
I'm ready for that. I'm heartbroken, but I know this day has been coming. It still hurts, though.
I'm hoping she just goes to sleep sometime tonight or tomorrow and the end will come. I don't want her to have to go bye-bye in the car one last time, to some strange place, and the last thing she feels is a pinch of a needle that will end her suffering.
Not that she suffered. But today, she couldn't eat her cookie. I gave her another one after work, hoping against hope that she was better. She fell over hard on her side. She couldn't hardly eat the cookie, but she managed somehow to get it down after a few tries.
It scared me when she fell.
I got down on the floor and gave her some love. She licked my face when I cried. I will probably do that a lot tonight. For all the grief she's caused me, she's more than made up for that with joy. She's always happy to see me. She sleeps by the door when I'm gone and never is far from me, no matter what room I'm in.
Bucket knows too. He's been licking her face for the last couple of weeks, which is how I knew the day was coming soon. He knows there's something wrong. He can sense it. And so do I.
Katie in her life here has had one bad day. She was half-dead from the butcher job someone did when she got fixed. Wendi got her at the Cottonwood mall at some adoption thing they had. They didn't expect Katie to live. Her name was Sage when I got her. Sage didn't fit.
Katie did.
And then Katie became "the "Did" (as in Katydid).
She's been my Did ever since. She has her own song I sing to her. It's called the Grandma doggie song:
Grandma doggie, grandma doggie, grandma doggie....grandma doggie gandma doggie grandma doggie. I love you grandma doggie, grandma doggie.
Yes, I know I'm a weirdo. But I love that damn dog.
And I'm gonna miss her.
Today, that promise ran out. Last night, I snapped a photo of my poor old dog laying on the living room floor. She went outside as usual last night and followed me into the bedroom. She can't jump up on the bed anymore. She's just too old and weak.
This morning, something happened. Katie couldn't hardly stand up. She was disoriented. She fell down a couple of times and it took all her energy to go outside. When she came back in, she barely had the strength to break her cookie and she couldn't eat all of it.
If you've owned a beagle for a minute, you know that when they quit eating, the end is near. A beagle will eat even if it just ate.
They're fun dogs, but they're troublemakers, and they're gluttons.
And they don't live to be 15.
My 14 year anniversary of being in the house and having Katie is a week from today. I will still have the house. I won't have the dog.
I just spent the last few minutes laying on the floor with her, just petting her and loving her, and crying like a baby. Katie got me through Wendi, through Tami Jo, through Cindy. When my boys took some time away from me, Katie was there. When the nights were lonely, she was curled up behind my legs so I couldn't roll over. When I cried, she was there. When I had dinner, she was always there, demanding her bite. I always had the house. I always had the truck. I've been devoid of human company, but never alone because I always had Katie.
And sometime this week, I won't.
I'm ready for that. I'm heartbroken, but I know this day has been coming. It still hurts, though.
I'm hoping she just goes to sleep sometime tonight or tomorrow and the end will come. I don't want her to have to go bye-bye in the car one last time, to some strange place, and the last thing she feels is a pinch of a needle that will end her suffering.
Not that she suffered. But today, she couldn't eat her cookie. I gave her another one after work, hoping against hope that she was better. She fell over hard on her side. She couldn't hardly eat the cookie, but she managed somehow to get it down after a few tries.
It scared me when she fell.
I got down on the floor and gave her some love. She licked my face when I cried. I will probably do that a lot tonight. For all the grief she's caused me, she's more than made up for that with joy. She's always happy to see me. She sleeps by the door when I'm gone and never is far from me, no matter what room I'm in.
Bucket knows too. He's been licking her face for the last couple of weeks, which is how I knew the day was coming soon. He knows there's something wrong. He can sense it. And so do I.
Katie in her life here has had one bad day. She was half-dead from the butcher job someone did when she got fixed. Wendi got her at the Cottonwood mall at some adoption thing they had. They didn't expect Katie to live. Her name was Sage when I got her. Sage didn't fit.
Katie did.
And then Katie became "the "Did" (as in Katydid).
She's been my Did ever since. She has her own song I sing to her. It's called the Grandma doggie song:
Grandma doggie, grandma doggie, grandma doggie....grandma doggie gandma doggie grandma doggie. I love you grandma doggie, grandma doggie.
Yes, I know I'm a weirdo. But I love that damn dog.
And I'm gonna miss her.
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