Nikki and Ellie – in Memoriam

I haven’t wanted to talk about it. Heck — I still can’t go through their pictures even though I badly want to create a slideshow of their lives. But here it is — Nikki and Ellie have both died. I’m dogless and not happy.

Nikki died in terrible pain on the Friday night following the surgery to remove her spleen tumor. She’d disappeared when it was close to dinner time, which was totally not like her, and I found her in the corner of my bedroom panting and obviously in a lot of pain. I didn’t know what to do. It was clear she was dying. What was the best thing for me to do? Did she want to be left alone? Did she want me with her? Would petting her just make it worse?

I ran and got pain pills and tried to get them down her, but she was too far gone for that. I wish I could have overdosed her. I was on the floor so Ellie wanted attention too — I yelled at her to go away. That was mean.

I called the vet at home (he’d given me his number) and there was nothing we could do.

I was one of the most traumatic experiences I’ve ever had. Nikki was the most incredible dog and I let her suffer and horrible, painful death.

It’s made me rethink my aversion to euthanasia — I will gladly put an animal down before I will ever watch another suffer like that.

I don’t know if Ellie’s death was a whole lot better. By the time I found out what was causing her limp her bone cancer was well advanced. I had researched and found a mobile euthanasia vet out of Jacksonville so I contacted Dr. Katie. She turned out to be a complete godsend.

She told me stories of people who had tried the amputation and chemo route only to have their dogs bones become so brittle, or possibly also full of bone cancer, that another leg would break when they only had three. She and I texted and talked and with her guidance I came to peace with letting go of Ellie before he pain became too great and most definitely before the bone cancer weakened that shoulder so much that it shattered.

She told me to love on her, feed whatever she wanted, and stay in touch.

On Sunday December 13th I knew the end was getting near. I spent most of the day on the floor petting Ellie and talking to her. That afternoon I asked her if she’d like to go out and her expression said “Please don’t make me do that.” A dog who had sprung into action at the mere mention of the work “out” no longer could face it. I decided it was time to let her go.

I spent all day Monday on the floor with Ellie, talking and petting. Dr. Katie came Monday afternoon and joined me in lavishing attention on Ellie. Then she very gently sedated Ellie and then put her to sleep.

I still can’t talk about losing either dog without crying. I know I’ll get there, but not yet. Heck — if I can get to the point I can talk about Josh without crying when I loved him a billion times more than the dogs — then I know it will come. Just not yet.

When I talked to Ellie on the floor I told her Josh and Nikki would be waiting for her. I told Josh to get his throwing arm in shape because she’s a retrievaholic. I assumed he’d already found a good swimming pond for Nikki. I also told Ellie I hope there’s no shedding in heaven because Josh will have three yellow labs — Casey (his dog), Nikki, and Ellie — and I didn’t want to know how much hair they could produce.

I believe all four of them will be waiting for me when my time comes. I also believe they are watching out for me every moment of my life.

And I will be making that slideshow of them — I just need to wait a while longer.