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BEAUTY AND MISCHIEF ROLLED INTO ONE |
Monday dawned and this is the day I've dreaded, hanging over me like a black cloud all weekend. Every time I've looked at my darling wee Jessie my heart breaks and I think that just a few more days and I will see her no more. How can I do this?
I get through work and head for home ...... bringing me nearer the dreaded hour. My girls are my first stop when I enter the house....and they know it! Because of the impending appointment for Jessie, she is to be given no tea tonight and, although it hurts me today of all days, I keep away from them. Not because they will expect to be fed.....but because I cannot bring myself to deny Jessie this last meal. How can I deprive her of food -the one remaining thing that has given her pleasure.
Somehow I while away an hour and I am racked with guilt - I go into my girls and chat to them, bringing them out to the company of the kitchen. It's been raining off and on all day and for once I don't want the sun to shine. We take a walk outside and I allow Jessie to wander around the garden, mindful as I watch her that she won't be here tomorrow, this is her last time to sniff these grasses.
I lift her in my arms and together we walk the garden. How many times have we cuddled together - and it hurts to know that it is all coming to an end. At 6.10pm I realise time is running out, if we are to keep that appointment we have to leave.
My girl sits in the front seat wearing her yellow lead, specially chosen for the brightness against her glossy black coat. Beneath her is her new blanket, marked with paw prints all over. With tears streaming down my cheeks I talk to her all the way to the vet's car park. I'm reminding her of all the fun times we've had, I'm telling her just how much she has meant to us and I hope she understands.
I carry Jessie into the waiting room and the mood is sombre - these staff know what we're here for and they also know how much this pet in my arms has meant to me. I take a seat and she settles in my arms. As I sit stroking her, attempting to offer comfort for her and for me, she stretches her little neck and licks my nose twice. Her little kisses have been precious to me and she would repeat them over and over and over again on request. She cannot know just how much this kiss now means to me.
A huge dog comes out of the surgery, my mind so far away that I cannot even recall it now. I try not to look - it just seems wrong that we should see one walk out of that surgery well and on its way home when I know I will carry my Jessie in there and she will never walk out again. Kate almost whispers us to come into the surgery - she dreads this as much as I do. I carry Jessie, her new blanket under her and set her gently on the table, in my mind I'm actually wondering if we could just back out now and go home. I'm torn, I don't want to let my Jessie go but I know for her good, I have to.
Kate explains that Jessie will first be given an injection in the hip to sedate her, and then a 'euthenasia' solution will be injected into her front leg. She gets her first injection and doesn't like it at all - bless her, she never did like them! She clings to me for security and that is more than I can bear. This girl has been such a brave soldier through so many struggles in her little life - it shouldn't have surprised me that she remains standing on the table for as long as possible. As I hold her, talk to her, ask her how we are EVER going to manage without our girl, she slowly drops her head and settles down on the table. So typical of how she would have slept, her two front legs are outstretched, paws closely side by side, and she rests her little chin on them. I stroke her gently, pushing the hair back from her face, just to look at it one last time and it feels good to be able to comfort her like this for 5 or 10 minutes without her being distressed as in recent months. It is comforting to see her sleep peacefully.
As the final injection is inserted in her little leg I know there is no going back. I'm losing her and the thought of not having her around is unthinkable. In just a few short minutes her heart stops - my darling Jessie is gone for ever...... her heart has stopped and I feel mine is breaking.
I say my final goodbyes to this little pet of mine and Kate and I wrap her in her paw-print blanket. Her little body is warm and soft and feels like she should be alive - but I know only too well she's not. Kate carries her snugly wrapped body to the car and we hug - I know she feels my pain.
On the drive home I want to scream. Jonathan meets us at the door and I cry and sob uncontrollably. Jessie has been a part of me, a loving part of our home for 15 years and I cannot imagine it without her. Her little grave has been dug while we were gone and I want her placed in it straight away - it just doesn't seem right that we should keep her waiting around. We had originally picked a spot to the left of the house, under a low, shady tree but I don't want her there now. I want her at the bottom of the garden - so I can look out and see her final place every time I look out of the window.....that's how she was in our lives - always close by and anxious for company. It wouldn't seem right that she be buried out of our sight.
As darkness closes in I can't see where she is. I nip out and place a little red candle on her grave - as I look out I know now exactly where she is. How many times has she heard me call in a panic 'where's Jessie?'.....
she would understand.