We had the Senior Dog, Paddy, humanely put down last Thursday. He'd been in a decline for the past year but had really started to fail this past few weeks. I'd say things like, "I don't think Paddy's long for this world," but he'd keep plodding on although his sight and hearing was almost away. It was two days before the end that I actually realised that he was dying. He didn't seem to be in any pain but you never know. He was certainly getting weaker. He couldn't jump on the sofa and he could hardly stand when he went outside to pee. He kept going round in circles before he'd lie down. he didn't look comfortable. He was starting to go off his food. On Thursday morning I made him a scrambled egg with butter. He ate half of it. Normally he'd have gobbled a delicacy like that. It was his last meal. Less than an hour later I made a very fast decision and called the vet.
She came to the house. Bert put Paddy to rest in the garden just after two o'clock.
Ever since I've been in pieces. I don't know why. I've lost lots of pets over the years but none have affected me like this. I think it was because it was done so quickly. But that is what we are supposed to do isn't it? Prevent them from suffering.
