Definitely did NOT think I would be writing so soon.
The past 6 days were a messy, tear-soaked, alcohol infused, lack of sleep blur. Honestly, I have no idea how I made it through because there were fleeting moments when I thought my brain was going to blow up and my eyes would roll out of my face. I didn't know I could CRY that much. I blew my back out, which was a combo of sleeping on the horrid pull out couch with the dogs for 5 days and carrying Bentley in, out and around. But we made it, E, Saydie and I.
During the final 2 days, Bentley lost control of his bowels. He pooped in the kitchen and sat in it. E and I promptly cleaned him and the floor and assured him it was OK, no big deal, shit happens. Saydie flitted around the house with worried eyes, her eyebrows raising and lowering. She did not understand why Bentley was pooping the house...after all, it was he who showed her the ropes (which included NOT pooping in the house).
Sunday night Bentley had a lot of trouble swallowing and seemed like he had something stuck in his throat. He was better when laying on his side though. He did manage to fall off the bed in the middle of the night as well, which caused me to leap up and scoop him back into my arms until he fell asleep. He did not pee once or poop on Monday or Sunday night. He was ready, his eyes told me so.
He also became aggressive towards the cats the last 24 hours. He had never shown any irritation towards them his whole life, but he had violently snapped at Fat Cat 3 times in twenty four hours...the kind of snapping that makes you think for a second that the cat's head was gone.
Saydie is adjusting as best as she can. She now sleeps next to me on the floor, in a fabulous new bed. That alone confuses her-my dogs were kitchen sleepers for the past 6 years. She is also bossing the cats around. This is foreign to E and I, considering Saydie thought the cats were her babies and she often cleaned them.
She stopped jumping up and now takes food and treats delicately instead of scarfing. She hasn't been barking much, and she's not been out of my sight at all unless left with E or my mother. I'm terrified of leaving her alone for fear of her heart breaking.
She has looked for Bentley twice that I have seen. I invited her to play ball and she declined-ran up the deck stairs and stared into the kitchen where her brother would normally lay. She looked at me, looked inside and would not move. I let her in. She ran to the front door, looked out, looked at me and then lay down.
E and I cannot fathom the thought of adding another pup to the family. I thought I would want to-but as E said the other night "I love dogs, but FUCK! The HEARTACHE."
His heart is irreparably broken and he seems to have misplaced the light in his eyes. We've cried many times together over the past 48 hours. We agree that it feels as if we have lost a big part of ourselves-an arm, a leg...a heart. I personally feel completely out of sorts, confused and somewhat lost. I no longer have to wait hand and foot on someone who can't do for themselves. Now I just open the door and out she goes.
After a heart to heart with the vet's wife (love her, by the way), I realized the one thing that she said to me that made the most sense-
"Kerri, would you trade one day of having Bentley for the heartache you are feeling right now?" I said no, absolutely not. "Well, sometimes we have to hurt ourselves in order to do what's right for our animals."
We made the right decision, I know this deep down in the very core of my heart. I don't doubt that for one single second. That doesn't make it easy by any means, but I know for sure that he would have defended me to the death if needed and it was time to do the right thing.
I miss you Bentley. Run fast, run free.
Bentley "Boots" 2003-2011
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