At last, sweet Sadie sleeps

Our first dog, Sadie, was diagnosed with an aggressive form of mammary cancer in July. The vet gave her two weeks to three months.

Two months past her expected expiration date, Sadie continued to have good days and bad days. Saturday was a bad day.

This I learned upon waking up, when my husband informed me she had trouble going to the bathroom and didn't eat. I knew when I saw her she was in pain. Laying there, she didn't even wag her tail when I approached. Her eyes were red with pain, and from lack of sleep. We'd talked about The Decision for several weeks. We knew we'd have to decide before leaving for vacation New Year's Eve. I thought we'd have Christmas together.

But Sadie was having a mother of a bad day. And neither of us was ready to face it.

A few hours, half a Moons Over My Hammy and some coffee, we stopped by the vet. Paid for the home visit and cremation. And scheduled the end as late as possible: 5 pm.

Sadie's last hours included hugs and kisses and lots of pets. A warm shower to wash away the crusty scabs and serum that pulled her skin and caused her pain. And, for the first time, a homecooked meal of hamburger and rice.

We were trimming the tree (which had sat naked in our living room for four weeks) when the vet arrived ... early.

Everything happened so fast, but this I remember: Sadie was a fighter til the end.

The vet warned us some animals cry out in fear during a brief period where they can hear, but not see. Not our Sadie. After lying prone for several hours, she stood up when the catheter was placed. And crumpled on her pillow seconds later, midway through the injection. She never closed her eyes.

Her last vision was of my husband. Her last smell was of his hands on her head. Her last touch was my hands stroking her back. The last words she heard were ours: "You're a good girl, Sadie."

A few moments passed before I noticed the absence of the quick, shallow breaths that plagued her last few months — either from pain, or spread of tumors to her lungs.

The vet pressed her stethoscope to Sadie's chest and said, "Her heart has stopped."

And so did mine.