Saying Goodbye is Never Easy

Just a warning before you go further... today's post is not a happy subject, but a most necessary part of my job.

Two months ago, a white bundle of fur entered my home as a retiree. Cotton was a 10-year-old Husky/Corgi mix, who had spent the majority of life living on a chain, not truly knowing the joy and love of a full-time family. It took her three weeks to be comfortable enough to stay in the house, and we had her professionally groomed to make her pretty. We knew she had quite a few health issues, as the woman who saved her had veterinary care provided before her arrival to me. But of the two months, I watched as her energy levels dropped to zero, and I was forced to pick her up to go outside, and do the same to come back in. Her breathing became more labored, and her incontinence became more frequent. Her appetite became more finicky, and she barely acknowledge my petting her.

This morning, I decided we needed a veterinary consult. The determination was respiratory disease, possible liver disease, and a host of other issues. It was determined that the medicines may not improve the conditions and it was very doubtful they would prolong her life much further. We decided to put an end to her suffering and allow her to be in peace.

I held Cotton through her very last breath, and even longer after that. It is never easy to say goodbye, and we have to try and remember that as rescuers, we are charged to show more compassion and humanity than these animals had known previously. As I promised her savior that she would always have a home here, I made arrangements to have her cremated and her remains brought back to me.

Just a few moments ago, I finally picked up her food and water dishes and moved her bed to the laundry pile. I sat for a moment, holding the bed close to me, missing her so much already, and hoping she knows that even for a short time, she was very much loved.