A Rough Morning

I’ve always disliked being disturbed in our home – like impromptu visits from door to door sales people (which is illegal in Pierrefonds, and yet a shit load of people still do it!) or my personal favourite: religious fanatics who want to convince me that their stuff is better than the other! I will buy the occasional chocolate bar from kids, even if Hubby doesn’t approve. I love chocolate so I give in to my stomach more than to my principle on this one. When Hubby is home and he does answer the door, boy is he rude! But that’s his way. Since Pooch has been living here (5 months today!), the doorbell ringing has become an issue. Pooch gets so pissed off when she does hear the bell (because she often doesn't), that none of us want that bell to ring.

Here’s what happened a few hours ago: Hubby left for work and I just finished breakfast, when someone rang the door. Pooch leaped out of her bed, hair raised on her back and barking like there’s no tomorrow. I picked her up and tried to calm her down, to no avail. She was really pissed! The fuckin’ Jehovah’s (two old men) were commenting on the barking when I told one of them “Yeah, yeah, just give me your pamphlet. I’ll read it. Bye!” The whole time Cathy was in my arms, barking, non stop. I closed the door and was petting her to calm her down. I took about 6 steps and put her down, when I saw the most horrible thing: as I put her down her little legs couldn’t hold her up and she tried to walk but was so wobbly that she tipped over and went down in a spread eagle. She was trying to get up but couldn’t. I totally freaked out!

I picked her up, and couldn’t feel her heart beat, and she was all limp in my hands… Let’s just say that my heart came up in my throat… I knew this day would come, but I didn’t want it to be right then! I was petting her frantically, talking to her and then I felt her little heart again. She looked so weak and defenceless. It broke my heart to see her like that. I could barely see through my tears, but I made my way upstairs with her in my arms, put her down on my pillow and called Hubby. I then called the vet’s office who told me to bring her in. While Hubby drove home, I sat next to her, petting her. She looked exhausted. I cried so hard, I can’t even write this without my vision becoming blurry, and at that moment I said my goodbyes to her the way I’d wish I would have done with my father. I know it’s crazy, it’s only a little dog, but she was my father’s and I miss him and there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think of the old man and of how I would have loved to tell him how much he meant to me.

When Hubby showed up, we wrapped her in a towel and drove to the vet’s office. She had regained some energy by then and seemed more alert. She was examined, and because of her age and all, there are so many things that could have been wrong that they couldn’t tell me exactly what had happened. She had an episode.

She’s now sleeping next to me in the office, all curled up in a ball. I realised today that I want her to die with me. I told the vet that I don’t want her to suffer and I don’t want to see her deteriorate to the point of not being able to walk, etc. I thought I was bringing her in to be put down, but we left with her, alive.

When we got home, before Hubby went back to work, he unplugged all wires to the doorbell… just in case…