Thank you all for your kind words. Talia is doing OK, I'll update on the other thread.
Nisha's last few hours were truly heartbreaking. We had to trap her; that was easier than it would have been previously, as she was in pain and not moving quickly. We had tried another combination of drugs, but again they did nothing to sedate her. She hid in one of the kennels, and I managed to get a slip lead over her neck. She was absolutely terrified: she pushed herself as far back into the corner as possible, her eyes were wide and her body rigid. I took a photo but it's too upsetting to look at now. I knew there was a chance that she would bite in fear, so I managed to get Shadow's muzzle on her. The first time I had touched her. Her ear was soft and silky. Somehow we them managed to pull her out, with her fighting against us, and get a collar and harness on her. All of these things were too big for her, so we had to put twists in the straps to hold them in place. I was worried it would be uncomfortable for her.
We manhandled her into a crate, and loaded her into the van. She totally shut down, helpless.
At the vet's, we carried the crate into the clinic and the vet injected her with the anaesthetic while she was inside. She fought against it and needed to be given a second injection. Such a fighter. I tried to stroke her head, but she flinched away. It was an instinct to try to soothe her, but she was terrified of human touch. I ran through everything with the vet that needed to be done while she was under: vaccinations, microchip, ketamine so she wouldn't remember.
Eventually she went to sleep and had the X-rays. When we were called back in, no-one would make eye contact with us and we knew it was bad news. The vet showed us the images with a large tumour in her chest, ovarian, uterine and mammary cancers, which were displacing her stomach, intestine, bowel and bladder. Even I could see there was nothing to be done.
The vet asked if we wanted to stay with her while she was put to sleep. I said no. Fuck, I said no. I so wanted to be there for her, but I knew she would take no comfort from it. It would make it worse for her having more people in the room rather than fewer. So I said no. She didn't trust me, I couldn't even make this part easier for her. We walked away.
The last I saw of her, when I went to say goodbye, for my benefit not hers, she was cowering under the table in the consultation room, terrified, disoriented and in pain. My poor, poor girl.
We're doing OK. We're cracking on with the things that need to be done. We're focussing on Talia now; there's a new chapter to begin there. But it will take a long time and so much guilt and regret to get over those last few hours.