Friday night into Saturday, our big dog Shelby had a rough night. Panting constantly, throwing up water, couldn't control herself. The steroids we had been giving her were helping her be mobile. But the side-effects were making everyday life very difficult for her.
So on Saturday morning, I called the vet and made the appointment. We were set to go in at 1. At lunch, without any direct provocation, Big Brother asked "Is Shelby old?" We had a short conversation about what heaven was, and that Shelby was soon going to be there. We wouldn't see her any more, and we'd miss her.
Before we took her in, the kids gave her hugs and kisses. BigBrother told me and DearWife that "I am sad about Shelby. She's a good girl."
The actual event was difficult. We've had her for 8 years after getting her from a shelter. Her previous owner took her and her sister into the vets and said "I'm done with these dogs, put them down." She was a great dog for the kids. Very laid back. She'd let the boys fall on her and poker and prod her without so much as a growl.
We're going to miss her.