Friday, May 25, 2012

She loves that dog more than us

Is that a biscuit in Isla's hand?

I'm afraid Isla was in on a conversation about the imminent future, possible, probable, most-likely inevitable necessity of putting Ruby to sleep.

"We're going to have to kill her," Esther said, without a hint of sensitivity.

"Kill her?" Isla repeated.

"Esther," I pleaded.

"Well the vet is going to have to put her  down and she'll actually be dead."

"If anyone tries to put Ruby down, I'll kill them," Isla said.

Later that night:

"You can't put Ruby down. I don't want her to die.  She's my best friend. I love her more than you guys."

"Do you mean you love her more than you love us, or you love her more than we love her?"

"I said, 'I love her more than you guys.'"

Either way, I don't blame her.

This really sucks.

You know it's going to happen one day, but that doesn't make it any easier. I seem to be maintaining this strange detachment from the whole thing. I can't bring myself to think about it, to make it real, or even to prepare myself.

Does this mean we're not ready, or I'm in denial?




13 comments:

Rowena said...

Oh, how heart-breaking. For all of you. I'm so sorry your pup has come to this stage of life. I know what it is to make that decision. I wish you all the best in coping with such a sad time. <3

Anna said...

says it all...

jill said...

Jeez Bets. Brings me back to my old little doggie and that horrible day. She died in my arms, I wept, as I am now, for days because I made the choice. After, when the vet took her away, two butterflies tried to go into the house through the front door. Three times they tried and then they flew over the house. It was November, here at 7000 feet. Serendipity?
The one thing I say is this. You don't have to wait for them to suffer before you make the call. That said, my heart feels for you and your lovely, little compact, complete family. And welcome home Ian.

mooserbeans said...

I am so sorry. Losing a pet is so hard. When we lost our dog, it left a hole in our lives.

Anonymous said...

So sorry Betsy. Hugs to you all.

Jill, when we put our old girl to sleep a black butterfly visited us & circled me 3 times, then went around the house. The next morning it was in the garage looking at us through the window like our dog would when she wanted back in. You're butterfly story made my heart skip a beat.

sue said...

My suggestions is that you talk about it your dog's death, what it would feel like, write letters to the dog--use all the time you have from now until the inevitable day. All that preparation will help somewhat after the euthanasia.

We prepared our four year-old daughter for months before we ended the life of our 16 year old dog.

But the first and biggest challenge? Me. I had to decide to do it, accept that it was inevitable, and not lose it in front of my child. And live with the guilt for years afterwards. Sue

Anonymous said...

I love your photography... it looks so effortless and dreamy. Would you mind sharing any tips - how you learned what you know, what camera/lenses you use? Thank you in advance!

Special K said...

I'm so sorry. I posted a picture of our Abby who looks like your Ruby and a few days later we had to put her down. It happened fast and there was no question. I can only hope the same for you. Sounds like Abby and Ruby were kindred spirits so maybe they can play in Doggie Heaven together
http://www.logansylvie.blogspot.com/2011/08/abby.html

Betsy said...

Jill and anonymous: Your butterfly stories gave me goosebumps. I am now sensing that Ruby is more physically and emotionally attached to me than ever. As if she knows our time is limited. She doesn't let me out of her sight. Oh the burden of connection...

Betsy said...

Anonymous: I have a cheap digital camera which I hate, it blurs a lot. My only hint is take lots and lots and lots of pics. Eventually you get a good one.

Betsy said...

RIP Abby. I hope Ruby isn't a snob when she meets you.

Anonymous said...

I love that hint - keep shooting and you'll get a good pic. makes sense...especially with active children. You never quite know what they'll be presenting next. :)

Anonymous said...

My dog was my best friend too. Luckily she made it until we were in college and didn't have to watch her die. So sorry for you, and for Isla.