| RIP sweet Cochise
Thu, 3 Jan 2008 13:38:28 EST - from Kate, via Robert
You lay there on your blanket soaking in the warmth of the glowing woodstove. Your eyes are sad, pleading as they stare at me. It's not time to go yet, but I carry you to the car anyhow, when they see you, they will have to let us in early.
You don't move on the ride, just lay in your blanket, on the passenger seat of the car. I reassure you over and over....but I am really only reassuring myself.
When we arrive, they see you, and immediately get us a room, even though you have never been there before. Your temperature is low....too low. They say the thermometer must be broken, they get another, but it wasn't the thermometer.
The room spins as I hear the words....you won't get better. My eyes well with tears, as I know what needs to be done, and that I will have to do it alone. I call your daddy, and he cries as he tells me to do what ever I think needs to be done.
I hold you like a baby in my lap, wrapped tightly in your blanket, stroking your fur as the vet explains what will happen. The first shot will simply relax you, take you away from the pain you are experiencing. I will have as much time with you as I need.
Those next ten minutes will never leave my head, or my heart. Your brown eyes are so sad and tired. I can see that you are tired of fighting. As tormented as I am with my decision, it is as though you are telling me that it is okay. I stare in your little eyes, you were always such a good dog, sweet to the kids, timid. Your first 9 years were so horrid, then you came to us. Atleast we were able to give you a few good ones, a few carefree, spoiled happy years.
It's time. I lay you on the table, still covered by your blanket. The vet asks if i want to leave, but I can't let you cross that bridge all alone, with only a stranger there.
As tears stream down my cheeks, I stroke your head and tell you it is okay, as the vet gives you your final shot. 3 ragged breaths, the fight to live so strong, and then the spirit leaves your body.
Over the Rainbow Bridge.
I love you Cochise, I will see you on the other side someday. Know that you are NOT forgotten, always loved.
December 26th, 2007
Cochise was our second foster failure, my husband fell in love with him, and he never left our home once he arrived. I don't know his IMPS #, haven't got up the courage to open his things yet. We really loved him.
Kate
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