We had made the appointment with the vet the previous evening...to be the last appointment of her day so that we wouldn't have to deal with other owners, other animals. If, after she had a look at Elijah, she disagreed with our assessment, she promised to tell us and advise us accordingly. But if it was time, she would give us the information we needed to make the final.
As I was prepping (or should that be 'primping') to leave the house, G. sat with Elijah and had a little chat with him. She assured me that he was ready to let go... that it was all getting to be a bit too much. Now I normally don't put a lot of stock in some of the things that G. says that she 'feels', but this time I realized that she might be more in tune with the dog than one would think.
And the tears began...
Once loaded into the jeep, Elijah became visibly relaxed. The rocking motion of the jeep as comfort? Could be...
Once at the vet's, Elijah seemed almost relieved. We got to the waiting room, realized that there were still way too many animals there, and quickly ushered Elijah out to play in the snow. Elijah was born in winter and has always had an afinity for the snow and the cold. He burrowed in it the way other dogs try to burrow in dirt and sand. But he tired very quickly, and simply lay in the snow, periodically thrashing as though trying to create one last snow angel.
I slipped back into the waiting room to let the staff know that we were outside, while G. and K. stayed with Elijah. G. and K. waiting out in the cold is an unusual occurence, so you can pretty much understand how concerned they were.
One of the staff recognized me, and asked me to bring Elijah in through a staff only door. Walking 'big dog' through the waiting room was a heartbreaker. Normally Elijah and I would have had a tussel while I tried to convince him to leave the other beasts behind; this day he lead me through the door that the staff member held open for us. It was even tougher when he lead me directly to the euthanasia room. Damn... he actually knew where to go and what he was essentially giving us permission to do.
G. and K. had brought his favourite blanket and a pillow that he sometimes favoured (meaning that he would steal it off the couch and hump it!). Making up a bed for him on the stainless steel tabletop seemed important. Elijah paced, waiting, impatiently...
The vet reassessed big dog, and concluded that it definitely was time... that he had been stoically concealing his pain (and frustration) from us until it had reached this point... the point that he just didn't have the energy to hide it anymore.
It was time...
