I did it

I hated it, but I did it. Barry came home yesterday, and we took Simba to the vet and put her to sleep. I asked him on Tuesday nite to come, but he thought it would be this morning before he could get there, but he surprised me by showing up at 4 on Wednesday. It made a world of difference to my outlook on the whole thing because I had to stop second guessing and just do it.

It was horrible. Especially because when I pulled into the driveway to get them, she and Barry were standing in the driveway waiting for me. She looked great. Like there was nothing wrong. Until she tried to run to me in the car and fell down. It almost killed me to see that.

We picked her up, loaded her up and drove to the vet who was waiting on us. She was very happy all the way there, and even getting in the office, she was pretty happy. As we waited, though, she got weak, and leaned a lot, and was unsteady. I knew it was really time because I never even saw her think about growling at Kevin, which is what she does. She is scared of him, so she acts ugly. Kevin agreed that the way even her front legs were moving, something else was going on to cause all those neurological symptoms. I suspect a brain tumor, and am pretty convinced that is what it was.

So we did it. She is gone.

At the end, as it was happening, I knew it was right. I just wish I had known before we did it for sure, it sure would have eliminated a lot of heartache. She was such a beautiful dog, and for all the trauma she underwent before we got her, she was a wonderful dog. She started out scared of Barry and any other tall man, and ended up choosing him over anything else. She would fall asleep with her head on his pillow, just looking at him, she loved him so much. She would crawl up in his lap in the recliner, all 150 pounds of her. She was the best cuddler ever, and nothing could make you feel better than snuggling up with her for a nap.

I am going to miss her so much. Nine years is a long time to have a great dane, and she was at least two when we got her, so she had a long life. And a happy one. I know we were the right home for her, even when it was not easy like when she did kind of bad stuff like pen the cleaning ladies in the kitchen.

And that is all I can say about that, or I will get worked up again.

After we did it, we met Tracy and a whole pile of other wackos at the tattoo parlor, and I got a very cool tattoo on my foot. I have wanted to do it for years, but never had the nerve. I am such a straight arrow really, contrary to popular belief. We had a really fun night, and it was the perfect distraction.

This morning, I packed Slater up and ran away from home. Right now, we are close to Erie, PA, in a hotel watching TV. That is one of Slater's favorite things to do, and I enjoyed the road trip and just being able to leave all the ugly at home for a while. My foot hurts like a m-f'er as you can imagine, and right now is swollen pretty good. I am sure that is made worse by sitting in the car for 10 hours today. When I get to Holly's house tomorrow, I will have her take a photo of it to post. It is cool as shit, and I am so glad I finally did it.

My mom thinks I am having a mid-life crisis. I think she might be right.

What do you think?