The Rainbow Bridge
One of the hardest things I ever have to do in life is saying goodbye to one of my fur-babies. It’s been a tough year in other respects and losing one of them really knocked me to the ground.
Henry had kidney failure for about two years. She was on Epatikin and another herbal supplement (I always felt like a witch brewing up a potion making that one!), and she did really well for those two years. I could see her losing weight, and she didn’t get around as much as she used to, but she never gave up.
One of her favorite places to hang out in her last days was the bathtub. I had to pick her up, in the end, to put her there, but she seemed to enjoy it. She got so she’d paw at her water bowl, any water bowl, before drinking and the last day, she wouldn’t drink at all. It’s a combination of failed kidneys and dehydration that gets them. I couldn’t help but smile though because she ate her whole bowl of food.
I had a long talk with her and decided to have her euthanized. She could barely walk and was clearly in misery. Typically, I don’t like to go that route because I’ve always convinced myself that I want them in my arms at home during their last hours, but I’ve realized how selfish that is. So, I took her to my Vet. She sat on my lap the whole trip and got up once in a while to look out the window. She was calm.
Spencer Springs Animal Hospital in Henderson, Nevada is one of the best veterinarians I’ve ever been to. I went in and immediately broke down, and the receptionist put Henry and me in a room. Then she came back and asked if I was there to euthanized my baby. We filled out paperwork, and I asked for a private cremation. They provide a little box, a framed paw print impression, and another framed poem. They took her to put a catheter in her paw and brought her back and put her in my arms. They gave her some pain medication, then the stuff that helps her pass. It was all very compassionate and quick. And it broke my heart.
I know I did the right thing, but I miss my girl. I honestly think 17 was too young to go. Taylor, my 26-year-old is still going strong. I’ll need a Valium on the day she dies.