Molly continues to decline day after day. We have had "the talk" with her vet: quality of life vs. quantity. We are keeping her comfortable and taking it day by day.
Its hard making the decision, but we have decided to euthanize her soon. We just haven't decided the exact time or day. There comes a strange peace with having made the decision. An acceptance. I know that it will hurt me to let her go. I know that it is best for her, to free her from a failing body, from legs that can no longer bear her weight, take her around the block or even around the yard. I know that she will never be sick again, never feel misery or suffer in any way. But I don't want her to go. I am selfish like that. I want to hang on to my dog. My funny goofy olden golden.
I spend the days remembering the time we have shared. It has only been 4 years. Not nearly enough. I knew that taking in an old dog would have its risks. I knew she would break my heart. I gladly let her.
From the moment I first laid eyes on Molly Dawg, it was love. She was the calm in the midst of chaos, the only quiet dog at the Humane Society. She was sitting there dignified and regal while all around her the hounds barked and yipped, snarled and howled. She seemed to be waiting for me. When I approached her cage, she came forward, licked my hand and sat down grinning her big old goofy golden grin, as if to say "What took you so long?"
I don't want her to have to ask that question a second time. I just hope and pray that I don't hold on too long and make her suffer. I hope I will know when she is ready to go.