It’s time….that phrase is heard many, many times during the day. It’s time to go to work, It’s time to make dinner, It’s time to go to bed…..It’s time. This girl is Stella. For all intents and purposes, she is my dog. All 125 pounds of her. She’s a leaner, a drooler , a lap dog wanna-be and my first child (non-pet people totally won’t get this). Sometimes she may prefer my husband over me….but that usually depends on what he is eating.
I spent all day Wednesday preparing for “it’s time”. I was a wreck. I laid in bed beside her and we both cried. I helped out of bed and outside…she laid down and got comfortable….I cried some more. I spent the day saying goodbye. Totally preparing to the vet appointment on Thursday morning. She couldn’t walk and I knew she couldn’t go on like this.
I’d been through this before with out other dog, Daisy. But it was different then, she wasn’t my dog. She was attached more to my husband, they were bonded. Like Stella and I are bonded. And Daisy’s time came….I knew it, everyone knew it but John. Honestly I think he knew it deep down but didn’t want to be the one to say it. So I did….I said, “I really think it’s time.”. I took her, I was there with her (simply because my husband was away working and couldn’t be there). I cried but I rebounded rather quickly. But this is different.
I walked into the vet appointment prepared…..prepared for the doctor tell me that “It’s time”. But what I was not prepared for was that there was some hope. So now we’re home….and now we wait. Wait for her to get better….wait for her meds to kick in….wait for some sign that she is getting better…..and I have to say that the waiting is way more difficult….hands down. At least I can live with the comfort knowing that we at least will have given her the best chance possible.
So for now……I wait for someone to tell me….”it’s time”.