My appointment with vet was for 8:00 this morning-- I was running late. Didn't want to end the last walk. She sniffed the same trees, and her back legs once again collapsed while stopping for a pee break. I finally lifted her into my car. Rolled the windows down, and turned the radio off. I was hoping for traffic, and I got it.
The vet was kind. Explained every detail about the procedure, including the clay cast of her paw print that they'll be sending. Asked if I wanted to be with her for the duration of the procedure. Of course I do. The panting and shaking stopped immediately, and 5 seconds later it was done.
As I left the room a complete emotional mess, I was greeted by the terrifying bark of a Doberman in a black Darth Vaderesque muzzle waiting for his appointment. It made me smile.
My wife found Farmer shivering in a Chicago animal shelter 15 years ago. She was picked up on the south side of Chicago, eating garbage and skinny as a rail. Tough start for a puppy.
For the next 15 years, Farmer was there for us. Unconditional love indeed. Slept on our bed every night for 15 years. I'll feel that void tonight and probably won't sleep well. She helped us raise 4 kids; so gentle and compliant with years of ear pulls, wearing sunglasses, and Matchbox cars driven on her back. My daughter painted her nails once, and I'll be damned if she didn't look fabulous.
Good girl, Farmer.
