Minnie has joined Sadie over the rainbow bridge

This came all too quickly for me.

I walked into the house late in the morning to check on the dogs, to refill the water and feed them their canned food.  Minnie was not in her usual location by the front door, where I often would give her her food if the other dogs were still in the yard.  Today she was not by the door, and that got me worried.

I walked around the house, calling her name.  She didn't answer, neither with a bark nor a wimper.

There was still plenty of water in the water bucket, more than usual.  I refilled the bucket and as I did so, noticed Minnie in the living room.  She looked under duress.  This wasn't good.  Her fur was wet around her torso.  Her gums were grey.  When she got up to move  toward some cardboard, she could barely keep her hind legs straight.  Now I knew that her tumor has pressed against vital nerves; Dr Moffett had warned me about this. 

Minnie still took her food, as did the other dogs.  This helps me get other stuff done around the house.  The dogs are busy eating for a good ten minutes and I can quickly slip back out of the house, but today it was bagging the trash on the floor, stuff that the dogs keep moving around. I was in the house for a good hour. There is so much asbestos dust on the ground here that easily gets me coughing when I stay in the home for long.

I cleaned up the area around Minnie, filled two bags of trash, then went back into the RV during the heat of the day.

"Let the tumor run its course" kept flashing through my mind.  I knew today that the tumor was now winning and Minnie was slowly dying. I couldn't get her to walk and I couldn't lift her and take her to the truck to get her to the veterinarian.

My Minnie.  I sobbed in silence over her.  She was always so full of life, loving water and fetching balls, sticks, stumps, logs. Her last visit to the hidden stock pond in early February revealed her never-ending desire to want to fetch, despite her arthritis.  She was always so graceful in water.  If I had had a few thousand dollars to spare, I would have erected an above-ground pool for her, just so she could paddle around and give relief to her arthritic body.  That may be something I can do for the next generation of dogs.

I went back into the house at 5:30pm to check on Minnie.  She was now outside, under the Italian Pine.  She has always enjoyed laying under the shade of this tree.  Her moving to this tree let me know that she was ready to die.  Skies were overcast and there was a calmness in the air.  It was a good day to leave this earth.

I gave her water, which she took with gusto.  But her voice was gone.   She didn't bark, whine or wimper. Her organs had shut down.  She refused the meat I had cut up for her and all the dogs, so I gave her slice to Wolfie.  She put her head down between her paws and accepted her fate.  Minnie, who always so easily wimpered in panic, was now silent.

Susan texted me asking me to come over and pick up Sweetie, who had spent the whole day with her.  I had been at Susan's yesterday to give the dogs some relief in her shade garden.  When I went back home last night, Sweetie didn't want to go inside the truck, so Susan agreed to keep Sweetie for the night.  Susan then told me for 90 minutes, Sweetie wimpered and paced back and forth, looking for me and didn't calm down until after midnight.  She then slept quietly until she and Allie got up at 8am.

So I went over to pick up Sweetie, staying there longer than I should have, walking with the dogs around Susan's property and having two gin and tonics.  At least the haze created a tranquil sunset over the mountains.

I dreaded coming back home.  Minnie had passed under the pine tree, facing the stump of the Texas sage brush that is now slowly regrowing from the fire.  She had a peaceful passing and died in a place she was familiar with.

I cried. Despite her heatlh issues for most of her life, she loved life.  She entertained me with her obsession for fetching anything that fit into her mouth.  She traveled well. She always had trouble walking, though, and easily panted, even when I first adopted her in 2012.  Her weight gain at five years old, or after 2016, slowed her down and I never took her on long, strenuous hikes after returning from my road trip to Washington state.  But I always enjoyed going on walks with Minnie in mind: slow, shaded hikes near water, whether it was along the San Pedro River or along Miller Creek. 

I've now lost the two dogs I knew I would lose before the end of the summer.  But both deaths so close to each other still hurts.

I will never have another Minnie.