February 23 2011, 9:07 AM
The drive over was probably the hardest of my life. I tried to pretend that I was okay, tried to convince both my wife and myself that I was okay, but I know I wasn't. I'm lucky that there was little traffic, or I may have lost my nerve. I'd like to think that I was strong enough to keep going even if we'd been delayed and I had more time to think, to remember, but I don't know if I would have been. We talked during the drive, though I couldn't tell you what we were talking about. I think we were both just trying to distract ourselves more than anything. In the end, it felt like both the longest and shortest trip I have ever taken. I wished we had never reached our destination, but also couldn't get there fast enough.
She was quiet the whole drive over. I'm not sure if it was just because she was too weak to move, or if she was calm and accepted what was happening. I like to think the latter. We pulled in front of the vet and parked. We sat there for a second, a long second, and tried to strengthen ourselves. I don't think it worked. Both of us walked around to the back of the car, and I opened the hatch. Annie managed to stand up on her own and look at us. There was sadness in her eyes, but something else too. Relief, I think. I hope. I picked her up and held her next to me. She weighed nothing, just a small package of fur, her fat and muscle having disappeared with her appetite. My wife closed the hatch and we walked to the front door. I held her tightly, and we walked in.
My wife talked with the man at the desk, while I sat down and held Annie, trying to make sure she was comfortable. She didn't move, didn't fuss, and didn't make a sound. Somehow, I think she knew what was going on, what has happening. Somehow she knew, and was okay with it. She didn't want to hurt anymore. Didn't want to suffer. My little baby girl...
We waited for a bit and sat with her, petting her. She was so calm, so brave. Usually she panicked being there, but not for this visit. We waited a bit more before the technician came to see us. It was time. My wife had to stay behind. Annie was special to her, so special. She couldn't see her like that. She couldn't see her little girl... go. I love my wife for that, so much. She is a truly incredible woman, and her ability to love continues to amaze me. Me, I had to go with Annie. I don't know why. I just had to be there with her for this. I felt like I owed her that. I was her daddy. Her protector. I had failed her utterly, unable to protect her from an enemy I couldn't fight. I had let my girl down, unable to fight back against harsh reality. The least I could do was to be there with her at the end. Just so that she wouldn't be alone.
I got up and carried her to a room in the back. Only thinking about it now, I'm not sure if I gave my wife a chance to say goodbye, or if I just got up and walked. I hope I gave her the chance. My memory is a litle fuzzy on that. The walk itself was short, maybe a dozen steps, but my feet got heavier which each one. The technician led me to a small table with a blanket on it. Carefully, I tried to sit her down, but she was so weak she couldn't even help herself with that. It took a minute, but I had to be gentle. So gentle with her. She laid down, lacking the strength to do anything else. I pet her and whispered to her as the vet gave her a sedative. She was already calm, but I didn't question it. The technician gave Annie a pet, told me the vet would be by shortly, and left.
Alone with my little girl, I held onto her and and told her I loved her. Her eyes drooped and closed, and I think she fell asleep. I looked at that face and it all hit me so quickly. She was, is, and always will be the most beautiful dog I have ever seen. I remembered the first time I met her, with her so dainty, so pretty. I remembered falling in love with that little face. I remembered her walking through a park, completely oblivious to the ducks 15 feet away from her. I remembered her climbing into our bed, sitting with us on the couch, waddling down the street, being in our wedding, and demanding affection every night after I was done eating dinner. I remembered her playing in a dog park after we had convinced ourselves she would never want to play. I remembered the ridiculous waffing sound she'd make when she knew we were just outside. I remembered her greeting us every time we came home, except for once, last night, when she had been too weak to get up.
So many memories, so many smiles, so many moments where this one dog, this ridiculous little creature that could be so funny, dominated our lives. I held her let the tears. I had told myself I should be strong for her, but I just couldn't be. She was my baby and I was losing her. Not only losing her, but making the choice to let her go. For the rest of my life, a small part of me is going to hate myself for that.
After a while, the vet came in. She was very nice, and took a minute to pet Annie and whisper to her. I held my pup with all I had. Thankfully it was quick. I could actually feel it, if that makes sense. One moment Annie was there, and the next, she wasn't. I kissed her and told her we loved her, as the vet and the technician left me alone. Annie's battle was over. Her suffering over. I hadn't been able to protect her, but I honestly think that she was happy that I was there with her in the end. I stood and pet her for a few minutes. I had thought it might be weird, but it wasn't. I hugged her, gave a her a kiss for myself, one for my wife, and one for our other dog, and then one final belly rub. That was her thing, she loved having her belly rubbed. I placed a blanket over her, and left.
As hard as it is, as bad as I feel, I also have a sense of peace. Annie brought so much joy into our lives, so much laughter and love. She was the most amazing little dog, that could be frustrating as a hell, but never ceased to bring a smile to our faces. She will always be our little belly. She will always be daddy's little girl. She will always be the dog my wife was destined to have, she will always be Jinx's best friend.
We will miss you so much Annie. So much. Goodbye sweet princess. Until we meet again, have fun and enjoy the gravy.
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