Everything happened so fast. Just last week, Remy was still making her way to the park. She was still waking me in the early morning to get her breakfast kibble. She was still snorting about the house sniffing for snacks. How quickly things change.

Yesterday afternoon, John and I took Remy to the vet. She had had a fifth seizure (the third within a 24-hr period) last Friday, and then on Sunday, after we started her on anti-seizure meds, her mobility got progressively worse. She was starting to whimper throughout the nights, and she wasn’t able to put weight on either her front or back end. When we took her in on Tuesday, the doctor checked her legs and by the way her paws contracted downwards, he said she was definitely exhibiting neurological issues. Given her age, he suspected a brain tumor in addition to her arthritis and overall physical decline due to age. He explained that we really only had two options: put her down or continue to tweak the meds with the goal of making her as comfortable as possible (but without expecting her mobility to return). We deliberated and then concluded it was time.

The process itself was awful: three techs came in, each jabbing numerous times for a vein in her hind leg and then front leg. After a gabillion pokes, three jars of turkey baby food, and a final yelp from Remy, they finally hit the vein. Then, they shot in the anesthesia, and she was gone in 10 seconds. I couldn’t believe… so much time to arrive at the decision, then waiting an eternity for the techs to come in, then all those jabs (I nearly aborted after they had so much difficulty finding the vein), and just like that, she was gone. It was one of the most heart-wrenching moments of my life. I was kneeling there on the floor with her– petting and comforting her and then suddenly she was lifeless– her fur was still so soft and luxurious. Her eyes were still open. I couldn’t believe she was gone.

I know it was time. For the last few days, Remy hadn’t slept well and she whimpered a lot during the night. I tried everything but just could not soothe her. Before that and before all the seizures last week, she was restless– shifting positions, walking unsteadily up and down the hall, going outside, coming back in… Still, a part of me wonders: did I let her go too late? Maybe too soon? I know, all these questions and doubts are moot now. I am just so so sad that she is gone.

The weather yesterday felt strangely ominous. Rain in the morning; sunshine in the afternoon (I carried her out to the front lawn to soak up some rays); then when we returned home from the vet, it started pouring. It rained heavily all through the night. I felt like the skies were mourning with us. Today, the sun shined brightly, and puffy clouds dotted the blue sky. The universe was telling me something maybe…

All day today, I sobbed at random: in the shower, at the public restroom, at the park, in the car. My eyes are so swollen, my eyelids are now nonexistent. My buddy P says I look like I had an allergic reaction. When I look in the mirror, I see someone who’s been punched in both eyes. People say anguish is part of the grieving process.

P and I went to Seal Point Park this afternoon before her flight home. When J and I lived in Foster City, we used to drive the dogs to the dog park there. They loved all the different smells, especially the salty scents by the Bay. I think of all the beautiful places we took Remy. She found such joy in the simple pleasures: sunshine, a light breeze, fields of tall grass, a car ride. She really was such a good dog. I miss her so so much. I keep reminding myself it was time for her. She was such a fighter. I mean, in the last four years alone, she rebounded from liver failure (twice), idiopathic vestibular disease, choking (twice), seizures, arthritis, neurological disease, lameness… she was still mentally lucid but physically exhausted. I was exhausted.

I don’t really believe in heaven for humans, but maybe such a place exists for dogs. I hope that Remy is frolicking in lush, green fields holding her head up to blue skies, and with eyes closed, crinkling her nose as she takes in the glorious scents of heaven. Good bye, my sweet Remy. Thank you for enriching my life with such love, warmth, and friendship.