Boogie
Moderator
- Location
- Manchester UK
Before you wonder - no, Tatze isn't at that stage - nowhere near, I hope.
But she's 13 in April and definitely slowing down, so of course it's on my mind to some extent.
I remember when Gavin was at this stage, Calum had recently died and we had puppy Tatze, who gave Gavin a real new lease of life for a few months!
But I absolutely knew when the day had come to say goodbye. These are the hardest days of our lives with our pets, I feel.
I remember the last days with darling Boogie too - as if it was yesterday. It's 30 years ago now. He was 19 years old, very close to 20. When the time came. We had the vet come to our house, and Boogie fell asleep peacefully on his favourite cushion. I'll never forget him.
Our boys grew up with him. My youngest son was eight and absolutely adored Boogie. He didn't understand what had happened. He kept saying "You killed my dog".
Eventually when he was 22 years old he put his arms around me and said "Mum, I do understand that you had to have Boogie put down". I smiled and said "That took you a while!". I never held his words against him as I felt his pain too.
I came across this online - it's lovely, even though it did make me weep.
...
Our pets don’t understand longevity.
They don’t wake up hoping for three more months.
They don’t know what next year means.
They only know how today feels.
Is my body comfortable?
Can I breathe easily?
Does food still taste good?
Can I rest without hurting?
That’s their whole world.
You are their whole world.
When disease progresses, it’s rarely one dramatic moment. It’s a slow trade. Fewer good days. More hard ones. And it’s hard to notice the change when it’s slow and chronic.
And sometimes the most loving thing we can do is choose a good day.
A day where they’re still themselves.
A day where they can eat a little something special.
A day where they fall asleep in your arms quietly and peacefully.
You didn’t shorten their life. You traded their suffering for yours.
They don’t know you made a decision about time.
They just know they were safe. And comfortable. And with you.
Love to all who are going through this just now.
Rainbow last week at one of our dog walking fields.
But she's 13 in April and definitely slowing down, so of course it's on my mind to some extent.
I remember when Gavin was at this stage, Calum had recently died and we had puppy Tatze, who gave Gavin a real new lease of life for a few months!
But I absolutely knew when the day had come to say goodbye. These are the hardest days of our lives with our pets, I feel.
I remember the last days with darling Boogie too - as if it was yesterday. It's 30 years ago now. He was 19 years old, very close to 20. When the time came. We had the vet come to our house, and Boogie fell asleep peacefully on his favourite cushion. I'll never forget him.
Our boys grew up with him. My youngest son was eight and absolutely adored Boogie. He didn't understand what had happened. He kept saying "You killed my dog".
Eventually when he was 22 years old he put his arms around me and said "Mum, I do understand that you had to have Boogie put down". I smiled and said "That took you a while!". I never held his words against him as I felt his pain too.
I came across this online - it's lovely, even though it did make me weep.
...
Our pets don’t understand longevity.
They don’t wake up hoping for three more months.
They don’t know what next year means.
They only know how today feels.
Is my body comfortable?
Can I breathe easily?
Does food still taste good?
Can I rest without hurting?
That’s their whole world.
You are their whole world.
When disease progresses, it’s rarely one dramatic moment. It’s a slow trade. Fewer good days. More hard ones. And it’s hard to notice the change when it’s slow and chronic.
And sometimes the most loving thing we can do is choose a good day.
A day where they’re still themselves.
A day where they can eat a little something special.
A day where they fall asleep in your arms quietly and peacefully.
You didn’t shorten their life. You traded their suffering for yours.
They don’t know you made a decision about time.
They just know they were safe. And comfortable. And with you.
Love to all who are going through this just now.
Rainbow last week at one of our dog walking fields.
