My dog died Thursday...
She was 15, and I rescued her when she was 2. Her previous owner didn't want her anymore, and was going to have her put to sleep simply because she didn't want her anymore. So I took the dog (then, named Ginger), planning to find a home for her (I'd done this for 2 other of this woman's dogs). I couldn't find a home for this dog, though. And I bonded to her. So, I ended up keeping her, and changing her name to Stella.
Stella was with me through some very dark times. She kept me alive many times, and got me out of bed, when I just wanted to sleep all day. She would bark at scary drunken frat boys when I lived near campus. We would go on long walks in the park and in the woods. Then, when she started getting older and developed arthritis in her hips, we'd go on shorter walks. And we were living in an apartment with a small backyard, so we'd sit out together in the backyard. She loved the snow, and would become like a puppy in the snow, even when she was old.
The vet had me give Stella glucosamine to help her joints, and it did help her a lot for awhile. It started helping less and less, the past year. Tuesday, she was really having trouble walking and getting up. Wednesday, she couldn't get up at all, and she stopped eating. When I tried to help her get up, she bit me. She didn't break the skin, but she kept snapping at me the whole time I tried to help her get up, and left red marks on my hands.
I knew it was time. Her quality of life had been pretty low for awhile, but now her quality of life was zero. I knew the time would come, and it was here, even though I wasn't ready. I'd never have been ready, though, really. I know Stella was ready, though. I could feel it when she looked at me. She knew she was near the end, and she was ready to go.
Thursday, I spent the day laying on the floor next to her. She snuggled up next to me and licked my face, just like she used to do. I brought her water, because she couldn't get up or walk at all anymore.
Thursday night, we took her to the vet. I stayed with her when they gave her the injections. I was the last thing she saw. There was a painting in the room of 2 cats, who looked exactly like 2 cats I had who died over the past few years. I believe it was a sign that Diva and Luna were waiting at the Rainbow Bridge to welcome Stella. Maybe that sounds silly, but it brought me a lot of comfort.
I am so glad Stella isn't suffering anymore. And I believe she is at the Rainbow Bridge, and I will see her again someday. My home feels so odd without her, though. I keep expecting to see her in her favorite resting spot, keep thinking I have to let her out to use the restroom, etc.
I do want to rescue or adopt another dog at some point. But no dog will ever fill the Stella-shaped space in my heart.
Here are some pics of Stella from the past few years. She was a boxer/shepherd mix.
