Milly was almost 14 and had some arthritis but was generally happy. Last weekend she took a downturn and by Monday she had stopped eating and refused to be touched. It was obvious it was not arthritis, most likely it was the osteosarcoma that afflicts a huge number of greyhounds.
At 11am I called for a home euthanasia. It was scheduled for 4-6pm. Over those few hours of waiting it became unbearable to watch and I called the vet twice to try to get them here quicker.
In the space of six weeks I have buried my father, lost my job and started another, got my mother into aged care and made the call to farewell my dog.
Sometime recently I read that life is loss and I thought the writer was overstating it a little bit but I'm rethinking that.
Milly was a sweet, sweet old girl who knew her own mind. She loved an ice cream or a plate of human food much more than the best kibble and sardines. She would employ the "paw of more" in a quest for unending pats.
She was beautiful and dignified and I miss her.