Most of you know that I had to euthanize Moon last Friday, June 29th, only two months before her 12th birthday. Sadly, this is my reality.
The other reality is that this post may make you tear up. I’m tearing up just writing it, which is why I likely subconsciously put it off until now.
What you may or may not know is that six years and three weeks before this horrible event in my life, I did the same thing with my other two dogs while my ex-husband did the same with our wolf mix. All in the same week. Scully – June 4th (the wolf; she was 10). MacLeod – June 5th (he was 15). K’Lar – June 9th (which was incidentally her 14th birthday). Devastating. The week before my birthday. People don’t understand how I stayed sane.
Well, I haven’t really been sane for quite some time now. My birthday the following week ended up being a three-day celebration.
And last Friday took another notch off my sanity after quite a bit of it shattered over the past three and a half years, which is peppered all over this blog, so I don’t need to explain that. The last of my pack is now gone. There isn’t another dog or any type of pet in the house (unless you count the crickets) to help ease the pain like Moon did for me six years ago. I don’t want another one right now.
I somehow managed another three-day celebration, this time for Moon’s life.
I made the choice because Moon’s back legs were getting worse. It’d reached the point where not only was I helping her stand up, but I also had to help her lie down so she wouldn’t hit the ground so hard. She could still walk, for the most part, but her legs were bowing outward and unstable ground was not her friend. I made the choice for her. If you’ve ever owned a pet, you understand what I’m talking about.
Umi and I are both completely overwhelmed by the show of support from all of you. Umi is especially blown away by the support of friends whom I have never met in person. She doesn’t understand it, much like she doesn’t understand the zombie stuff, but that’s okay. We’ll just smile and nod.
So I thank you, dear friends, for the support, for buying jewelry from me so I could afford the whole thing and get Moon’s ashes. I’m not certain you really understand how important it was to me that you bought items I made rather than donated the cash. It made me feel good because I worked for it. Thank you!
Goodbye, my darling Moonbug. I feel your presence when I walk through the room. I hear your voice as you try to get my attention. And I still cry when I look over the edge of my bed in the morning and don’t see you there. I love you, child o’ mine.