Last night I walked my dog, Mandy, for the last time. She was deliriously happy for the exercise, but collapsed and didn't move for the rest of the night once we finally got inside. Can't blame her.
Today I was woken at 6 am by my mother, telling me my father intended to take Mandy to the vet in half an hour. I got up as if automated, not yawning or stretching, just sort of moving, getting clothes on, eating a small breakfast, not thinking.
I stroked Mandy's head and scratched her ears as much as I was able. She panted happily to be given attention.
It took some time for my father to get the v an ready for her. He put a towel on the seat, had to move containers and crabbing equipment out of the way. Mandy was able to get down the stairs by herself and into the van with some encouragement, but didn't get on the seats. I rode beside her, continously stroking her hair and petting her body.
It took half an hour to reach the vet's. Mandy kept lifting her head to see the sights, but it was hard for her to stand for long in the bump and grind of the road. Whenever I stopped petting her she would nudge my hand or press her head into my leg, begging for more. I obliged, every time.
When we finally got there, I saw that my sister had arrived before us. I hadn't known she would be there; she had been crying for a long time. Her eyes were red, her hair was wild. Her boyfriend kept his arm around her.
I took Mandy to the sidewalk. She defecated on the pavement, but I couldn't do anything about it. I ignored it. We walked inside, and the nurse put their own leash on her, and led her away. Mandy fought it until my Dad scolded her and told her to behave, and she was walked away whining.
We waited in the room for 10 minutes. I paced and drank water constantly, keeping my face as hard as I could. My dad supported himself against the counter, pretending he was waiting for paperwork. My sister sat in a chair and tried to compose herself.
We were led into a small room to wait further. It was the room over from the room where Jake had been put down. I was silent. My dad asked why I didn't want to go to the Ocean with my mom. I didn't reply. He didn't say anything more.
Mandy was wheeled into the room atop a chest-level tray, bandages on her wrist. She was panting and looked around at us happily, I think happy to see us again. The doctor was there with her, needle at the ready. Me and Jamie pet her head and stroked her. We didn't say anything. This was goodbye. We scratched her head and touched her head. She panted happily. My dad touched my shoulder. I moved aside- the doctor was preparing to inject her.
I held her head as he slid the needle into her arm. She looked around lazily, kept panting. She looked tired. She looked into my eyes and slowly lowered her head against my hand. By the time her head touched the mat she was dead, eyes open, tongue caught between her lips. She was gone. I couldn't say the exact second. Only that between the slow collapse and the touch, she died, looking at me. Wondering, maybe. Going to sleep for the last time.
The doctor checked her body for a pulse as Jamie burst into tears. I couldn't breathe. I didn't breathe. The doctor left the room. We touched her for the last time. My father stroked her head and whispered "Good dog." I kissed her cheek.
It wasn't until I was home and alone that something in me snapped and I cried. I held her in my hands as she died. She was looking at me as she died. She died. She went from a living being of emotion and force to lifeless while I touched her.
She was a brat when she was younger. Always getting into things and bothering Jake. She grew up to be the alpha female. Everyone knew it- she bullied Jake and JJ. And in her final year she was dignified. She no longer bullied, but was respected.
She was a good dog. I miss her.
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