I’m not really sure I can write about this yet. The vet told me it would be the hardest decision I might ever have to make, but that doesn’t mean it was the wrong one.
Chelsea’s been gone now nearly two days and I can’t help but worry that I choose the wrong one. I’ll never know now, of course, but I can’t tell if it’s the stinging pain of missing her that’s making me feel this way or if I did really make the worst mistake of my life.
Yes, she had been eating well lately. Too well, in fact—she had taken to waking me up in the middle of the night asking for more food. The vet theorized that this was due to her apparent dementia more than anything else—not hunger exactly but her brain telling her that she was hungry when she wasn’t. And yes, her diarrhea had gone away, but that didn’t mean she was doing well.
She wasn’t going to get any better. She probably could have gone on a bit longer the way she was, but her chronic ailments were mounting and new ones joining the mix all the more frequently. The time was fast approaching when she’d be in more pain than anything else, the vet warned, and we didn’t want it to get to that point. And even if it didn’t, I had to face the fact that Chelsea’s quality of life had become pretty minimal.
“You’re making the brave decision,” the vet said. “From a medical standpoint, I think it’s the right one, too.”
Sure, Chelsea could eat a lot. But she could barely walk to the corner of the block and back before developing a nasty limp, and when she’d hobble blindly around the house she’d crash into walls and furniture, knock over chairs, get stuck in the bathroom, etc. No amount of Stink-proofing ever seemed to be enough—she’d determinedly find herself caught in a tight spot no matter what we did to prevent it. In the last week, she’d taken to panting frequently and pacing frantically around the apartment. She was anxious. About what, I’m not sure, but one thing was clear: she was not comfortable.
Her tail had stopped wagging; her excitement was waning. Every time I go over these details in my head, I know that I made the right decision—perhaps even too late. But then I see her empty pillow, or smell her stinky blanket, or spot a renegade dog food pellet on the floor, and I miss her so much I can’t stand it. And that’s when I start to question my judgment.
I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright and when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice, but still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they’re gone. I guess I just miss my friend. -Ellis “Red” Redding, The Shawshank Redemption
25 responses so far ↓
1 thinlizzy // Feb 11, 2007 at 6:32 pm
I’ve been thinking about you this weekend. It’s hard right now, but Chelsea will always be your dog.
2 fern_forest // Feb 11, 2007 at 6:48 pm
I’ve been thinking about you too. I’m sorry you’re hurting. I wish I could help you feel better. I’m sure you made the right decision. Your vet is totally right – you were brave. And you’re also my favorite person in Portland, and I love to hear about Chelsea whenever you talk about her. *HUGS*
3 Anahita // Feb 11, 2007 at 7:35 pm
Although I can’t even fathom how much you must be hurting, I know based on what you’ve shared that another part of you feels at peace with what you’ve done because you did it for the love of Chelsea. And the title of your blog post says it all. Her spirit will live on and she has been and will continue to be a big part of your life. And, to a smaller degree, she was a definte part of our [your readers'] lives too!
**hugs**
4 Boo // Feb 12, 2007 at 4:20 am
You have my sympathies. And it was selfless and generous that you should free her. The quote is perfect. And I am not certain what words to console because I know how that feels. So just know people don’t take it lightly and do care okay? You were very strong for her. I admire that.
5 TimsHead // Feb 12, 2007 at 4:44 am
Sorry, Laura. We knew this day would come — you can look back months in your blog and see it mentioned — but that doesn’t make it any easier. And it hasn’t prevented me, half a world away and having met The Stink just for that one weekend, from having to fight back tears upon reading.
Chelsea was beautiful. Is beautiful. Will always be beautiful. Now she is free of pain. Think of the anguish you have, then imagine that translated into physical and multiplied and Chelsea living with it daily — and, well, you made the right decision. Hard as it is.
Be well, my friend.
6 rubyblue123 // Feb 12, 2007 at 5:18 am
Man, I don’t even know what to say other than there are a few tears streaming down my face right now for you. When I read this I knew exactly how you feel having dealt with the death due to old age of a couple of my dogs in the recent past. The difference being that you did the kind and unselfish thing whereas I chose to wait because, as you said, they start to eat more and move more, and I ended up having to watch them have a bad ending with more pain that was necessary. Reading this made me wish I had been more brave for them and had done the kind thing before the stroke or heart attack which is what you saved Chelsea from. There is no question that you did the right thing and I’m sure she thanks you for that wherever she is.
7 Jacque // Feb 12, 2007 at 5:28 am
Hon, I am so sorry. I know you’re hurting. I know how much she meant to you. Thinking of you.
8 James Cooper // Feb 12, 2007 at 9:16 am
This is a decision you’ve carefully considered over a long time. Chelsea’s quality of life was fast diminishing, and you did what you had to do to prevent your friend’s suffering. Your decision was made with love and for whatever it’s worth I believe it was right.
I wish you much strength through this time. Take care of yourself and know that there are friends and loved ones who will help you through.
9 Jules // Feb 12, 2007 at 11:31 am
So sorry to hear this news, Laura. She was lucky to have an owner like you, and I agree with everyone here that you made the most loving choice for her, as hard as it is on you. I’m glad this fine blog will live on in memory of its beloved namesake. Peace to you today.
10 michael5000 // Feb 12, 2007 at 12:09 pm
You did good.
Hang in there.
11 beli_grrl // Feb 12, 2007 at 3:15 pm
So sorry for your loss. You did make a brave decision.
12 theresa // Feb 12, 2007 at 5:56 pm
I don’t know you, (or Chelsea) and I am sitting here with tears streaming down my face for you. You are amazing in your strength, and Chelsea was an amazing dog. There are many people thinking of you and and knowing Chelsea is somewhere running, playing, bouncing around and saying, “Thank you, to the best friend and owner a dog could ever have.”
13 jiffer // Feb 12, 2007 at 6:12 pm
still thinking about you. you are a good friend.
14 Natalie B // Feb 12, 2007 at 6:28 pm
of course, there is nothing that can be said to bring her back, but what a great gift you both experienced to share your lives together. And thank you for sharing that gift with me! The hurt is really strong now, but the love and the memories are still there, and they will shine through.
15 susan caputo // Feb 13, 2007 at 6:49 am
Dear Laura, Ernie told me about your loss. As always you beautiful writing descibes so well your love for her and the loss you are suffering. Know that you are in my thoughts as is Chelsea. She was so adorable. I loved the way she would rub her face on Mommy’s stairs after she ate! I hope you are enjoying Portland. Be well. Much love, Sue Caputo
16 corbow // Feb 13, 2007 at 1:27 pm
You did do the right thing, but I know it feels strange and sad and empty. When Smoky died I spent the next day going through the house and getting rid of all her stuff, or at least cleaning it and packing it away. I couldn’t bear to see a toy or water dish anywhere. Chelsea will always be with you, much as Smoky lives on in my heart.
17 Paul // Feb 13, 2007 at 3:15 pm
Laura, so sorry to hear about Chelsea, I remember her from a pup. I’m sure she is in a much better place. Besides if she gets any ticks in doggy heaven, your Aunt Barbara will pick them off for her.
18 Low_Mom // Feb 13, 2007 at 5:06 pm
I hate that you had to go through that. I was all teary eyed just reading this. It sounds like you made the right decision.
19 Colleen // Feb 13, 2007 at 10:36 pm
Laura, I’m so sorry. I read everybody in my Xanga newsletter and rarely get over to anybody’s actual sites anymore. I couldn’t stop weeping, and I fell into it all morning. I feel as if I knew her. You were one of the first sites I subscribed to here, and it wasn’t just you, it was Chelsea. It’s the hardest thing ever. It’s so unfair they live such short lives. But they’re such glorious, magical creatures. We’re so lucky. And Chelsea was so lucky in you. When I saw the beautiful springer spaniel win Westminster tonight I cried all over again thinking of Chelsea. Be well.
20 Bob // Feb 14, 2007 at 3:28 am
Laura,
I was around that beautiful dog when you first got her…Ran with her and your mom, baby sat her, etc…So, I know first hand how much you loved her…I, too, like many who wrote before me, cried while reading your post…I could only say that I know you made the right decision…I will always miss you, Chelsea and the rest of the family…I love all of you guys…
Love, Bob
21 Anahita // Feb 14, 2007 at 12:46 pm
was just thinking about you. so I thought I’d come by and give you a hug. **HUG**
22 Allo Dahling // Feb 16, 2007 at 6:03 pm
Hi there. I came over from TimsHead.
.. I hardly know the whole situation, but I’ve read enough to feel for you, feel with you. Dogs are my passion and I’m sure I would’ve absolutely adored Chelsea along with everyone else.
Be well..
Dahling
23 Terra // Feb 16, 2007 at 7:29 pm
still thinking of you both. what a mark she has left in this world!
love terra.
“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
-Kahlil Gibran
24 Mandie // Feb 26, 2007 at 7:51 pm
I’m glad to see people giving pet loss the respect it deserves. It HURTS. People, in general, have a tendency to discount it.
On a more light-hearted note (I hope) as I read the comment from Terra, I thought it said, “Still stinking of you both” and I chuckled just a bit…it was meant to be a respectful love chuckle, not a mean chuckle.
25 Erika // Mar 7, 2007 at 6:45 pm
I found out late – later than most – and I’m so so sorry. Sweet girl, Chelsea. Will you be here, soon?