Shapelings, I’m not feeling very fluffy today. Over the last 24 hours, my very, very old dog Lucille has not been doing well, and Al and I decided it’s finally time to put her down. I haven’t made the call yet, but barring a miracle, we’re going to do it within the week.
I adopted Lucille in the fall of 1999, and at that point, the vet estimated she was between 8 and 10 years old. I figured I’d be lucky if I had her for 5 years, and I got 9, so I can’t complain. Here she is claiming my yoga mat for her own, which was one of her favorite things to do before she pretty much lost interest in everything but sleeping and eating.
The fact that she’s still eating makes me doubt myself a little, but then, this dog is so food-obsessed, I’m pretty sure she’d still be eating even if all her organs were shutting down. Waiting for her to lose interest in food would mean waiting for her to suffer tremendously, and that’s exactly what I don’t want to do. At this point, I am actually hoping to walk into the kitchen — where she’s been camping out right next to her food bowl about 23 hours a day for the last few months — and find she’s died peacefully in her sleep. But I don’t expect I’ll get that lucky — and the fact that that seems like the ideal scenario to me right now tells me it’s time.
So. After that downer, I need some fluff. Bring on the fluffy links, Shapelings! (And yes, pictures of puppies are okay — I can’t imagine a scenario in which pictures of puppies would not make me feel a little bit better.)