It’s been nearly six months since we said goodbye to our seven-pound wonder dog, Sadie. Twenty-five weeks ago last night, the hubs and I had a fretful, sleepless night as our little girl’s health declined rapidly – waking at midnight with tremors and neurological issues. Those eight hours that we spent cuddling her, comforting her, trying to assess her health and dreading the looming options were horrible in the moment because we felt so helpless. But you know what? Time – and 175 “sleeps” without our girl have reframed the hours in my heart.
We created a nest for her, using all of her favorite blankets, pillows and special toys. Hubs sat on one side of sweet Sadie, and I was on the other and we stroked her head, rubbed her tummy and reminded her of how much she was loved. There was little else we could do. We tried to offer water. A little dry food…her favorite treats but her eyes told us what we needed to know. Food held no comfort for her. She was ready for a big rest and just sought the nearness of us.
Hours passed and hubs and I took turns nodding off – all while we had hands on her little body. She seemed comfortable and would occasionally close her own eyes with a big sigh. The last one, I wondered? She turned her head so she could watch me…watching her…and I imagined her thinking, “It’s okay, mama. You can close your eyes, too.”
At around 5 am, she became disoriented and wanted to jump off the sofa. Shaky and unsure of her surroundings, her eyes looked vacant. As hubs slept, I wrapped Sadie in her very favorite blanket, and we toured the house together. Visiting each room as she cocooned in my arms. It was a final lap. A trip through rooms she loved to explore…get lost in…occasionally deposit a gift in (especially if it was cold or wet outside).
We paused to say goodbye to loved ones who’d passed, acknowledging family photos throughout the house. My mom, Sue, most of all. Sadie adored Sue and the feeling was mutual. For reasons no one understood, Sadie’s most sacred toy was a stuffed rabbit from Sue and while other stuffies came and went, her bunny was her forever friend. And Sue loved that.
When the sun began to rise, I put my boots on, and we headed outside. I wondered if I could put her down, if she could hold her weight. Sadie stood for a moment and sniffed the ground but began shaking immediately. From the cold? From fear? Tremors of a neurological sort? I scooped her up and as we walked into the house, hubs was waiting for us. The three of us huddled together and walked slowly, back to the sofa where we stayed for several more hours.
When I woke at midnight last night, Sadie was on my mind and the 175 sleeps we’ve experienced without our wonder dog nestled between us, sandwiched in between her beloved layers of blankets. I remembered the hours we spent with her, waiting for the vet’s office to open on February 9 and for the first time in months, I was flooded with gratitude, not sorrow. Those hours of cuddling her and loving her in the overnight quiet were somber at the time because of fear and foreboding. Now I see love and the grace we were given to stroke her, nuzzle her and take our time, when time was short.
Always in our hearts. Sweet, sweet Sadie.
Vicki ❤
Victoria Ponders 
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