browser life

We had to put Chip to sleep about seven hours ago. This morning, I took him in the back yard, and he collapsed in a pile of his own poo and couldn't get up. I helped him up, and he looked at me as if to ask for a way out of his suffering.

This afternoon, when I was petting him and he again didn't seem to know who I was, I knew it was time to do something. I called Dan at work and then called the vet. They said to bring him in at six.

Dan's boss let him come home early so we could both spend some time with Chip. We took him outside for a bit, which he seemed to enjoy, and gave him some jerky treats because he liked those best. And we sat on the floor with him in the house, petting him until it was time to go to the vet.

At the vet's, Chip got very nervous. I wish we'd been able to calm him before they put the catheter in his leg, but he was scared and cried and growled at the vet. But when he came back into the room with us, he came up to us and asked to be petted.

I had no idea euthanasia worked so fast. It was literally moments from when he got the injection to when he was gone. The vet let us spend as much time in the room as we needed to say goodbye.

Dan's taking this pretty hard. I'm upset too, but I've been mourning in small ways for a few months now and did a lot of my crying last night when I realized how much Chip's quality of life had deteriorated, so I seem less traumatized overall. It may be that I'm still in shock too because this seems sort of unreal.

It was awful coming home to an empty house. I was here about five minutes and then freaked out a bit and told Dan that I needed to go to something normal out of the house until I calmed down. This probably seems really weird, but we went to Qdoba and had supper, and then I was ready to brave the house.

I can't believe how quiet it is here now. No toenails tapping on the hardwood floor, no crunching of dog food, no thump and sigh of a pup lying down on the carpet for a nap. I don't know if I'm going to be able to sleep tonight absent the sound of Chip's snoring next to the bed.

And it's really weird how I find myself looking for Chip when I walk into a room. I guess I've been doing that automatically for so many years that it's gonna take a long time to stop. I know this sort of thing gets better with time, but right now it's awkward as hell.

Chip was a good dog.