Saturday, March 19, 2022

Goodbye, Sweet Maddie... July 14, 2005 - March 18, 2022

We lost our very first baby yesterday. Maddie was almost 17, and had been showing us for a few months that we were approaching the time to let her go.

A few days ago, she was sunning herself in the yard as usual (she was a South Texas girl straight from the Rio Grande Valley, after all) and gave us the look that said the time had come.

Walking had become extremely difficult for her, and she was very skinny (although still eating), due to her body shutting down and failing to absorb nutrients. She fell, and fell HARD, many times a day, and was confused. Instead of enjoying life, it was clear she was simply trying to make it to the end of each day.

So, yesterday, Jon and I made the gut-wrenching decision to allow Dr. King's skilled hands to give Maddie the peace and comfort she deserved. The euthanasia decision was a new experience for us; Dora was seemingly healthy, then passed in the matter of a couple of hours following a seizure she had out of the blue.

As soon as I got home from school, I spent some time petting her and watching her sniff the grass, then took these two final photos of our girl and we were on our way. Ethan insisted on going, so we obliged. The skies told us a big storm was on its way.


Maddie sat on my lap as Jon drove with the windows down, and rested her head on the window, sniffing the air. It was so beautiful and peaceful and calm and another message to us that this was what she wanted and needed.

The waiting room was crowded. Dr. Herlog saw us coming, with Maddie in Jon's arms, and rushed us past the other clients.

Dr. King explained everything that would be happening and asked if we wanted to be outdoors. With an enthusiastic yes, outside we went into a beautiful garden, resting Maddie on blankets atop a picnic table.

We fed her treats and peanut butter as the skies got a little bit more menacing. Then, Dr. King injected Maddie with a strong sedative so she would fall peacefully asleep before the second shot. It took a few minutes. As she started to doze off, fat raindrops started to fall, so we scooped her up again and headed back into the exam room.

All of us in tears led Dr. King to ask if we were okay to stay for the second shot. We did. As she administered it, we all petted and kissed our girl, and told her how much we loved her. At one point between sobs, I told Maddie I was sorry.

Dr. King said, "Don't be sorry. She's getting all straightened out now."

Agreed.

So, we gave more pets and kisses and loving words. After a couple of minutes of listening to her heart, Dr. King said, "She's gone." It was quick and peaceful, as we hoped it'd be. I've learned that the word 'euthanasia' has 17th century Greek origins (eu means 'well' or 'good' and thanatos means 'death'). And Maddie's was, indeed, a good, peaceful, and welcomed passing.

Without any mention of the bill, the staff told us to stay with Maddie as long as we wanted. Then, they let us out the back door through the garden. I knew I adored them, but I adore them even more now.

Tori and Petey are still searching for her this morning. That will rip your heart right out, let me tell you. Loving animals so much is a blessing and a curse.

Maddie was as gentle and loyal and "old soul" as any dog I've ever met. She deserves the peace she's been given. She and Dora, our original children before those humans came along, are running and playing now with bodies that work. The Rainbow Bridge is real, so I know we will all play together again someday.