Sent to
various members of the unit formerly known as Post 940 on August 20th, 2000 :-)
Dear Post (or whatever we are now) 940:
On Tuesday, August 15th (her 18th birthday) I finally made the dread decision
and had Gretchen put to sleep.
She had her last meal on Friday (only after much prodding) and showed little to no interest in food the next three and a half days. When she tried (unenthusiastically) to eat
small amounts of food on Monday she couldn't keep it down. She also had a bad bladder infection that three months of antibiotics had failed to even bring under control (let alone eliminate) and she had
completely lost her ability to use her hind legs. She started to whimper during the night (probably because I couldn't get her arthritis medicine in her) and for the last two days of her life I sustained her
on pain pills. On Monday she stopped drinking water and urinating, so even I was convinced the time had come.
Needless to say, the last week or so has been rough. *Putting* her to sleep was hard -
especially as she was still alert and tried to bite the vet when he stuck her with the needle (true to character to the end :-) but nowhere near as difficult as *deciding* to put her to sleep.
And now the house is very empty.
But life goes on, and I now should be more available for post (and other) events. (Of course, whether or not you'll actually be able to get any honest to Pete WORK out of
me is, as you all know, another story.)
Many thanks to all of you for putting up with her (and me :-) over the last 18 years. I know that wherever she is now she has taken part of each of you - in some
cases, a large part, in some cases, small mouthfuls :-).
Special thanks to Mike Maloney who foolishly accepted both of us into his house when we were pretty darn near homeless. (What were you thinking?!)
She was elderly when we moved in, but ultimately lived long enough to spend 1/3 of her life there.
Thanks also to Trampy and Doug for loaning me Trampy's truck as a dog ambulance (over the last year or so)
and for showing me the hospitality of their home at those times where I've needed to become thoroughly drunk (e.g., last Tuesday night :-).
Some people have suggested I should visualize her in heaven, but
I can't help but think of her snarling, snorting flames, and sporting two small horns and a pointed tail. Somehow I think she'd be happier that way - more than she would in a white gown listening to an
eternity of harp music.
I had her cremated (which should count as at least a token Viking funeral even though we didn't do it on the lake in a long ship) and plan to sprinkle her remains in a nearby
cemetery (that had best remain nameless as I suspect there are laws against such things).
Regards,
Bill
