We were making very well thought-out-plans to have a vet appt. this afternoon. But on Friday night, as the kiddo went to bed, she started having a LOT of trouble walking. I got to haul her around in the 'towel sling' for most of the night.
(Of course, she was fine at 4 pm...she didn't have this problem until 9 pm)
So Saturday morning, we talked to the vet and he set us up a 6pm appt (because I was OOT from 9 am until...done). We talked to the kiddo after she got up, before I whisked off for the day. She had a hard day, but spent the afternoon w/ her grandparents. We spoiled the shit out of the dog--canned cat food for breakfast? All the chicken you can eat? sure.
I got home and we took her to the vets (and, like I've said before, our vet is awesome. THe office was closed, he let us just hang as long as we needed and then we took her home and got the kiddo and let her see and talk to us.
Of course, it was 70 and sunny on Friday afternoon, but 40 and rainy on Saturday when the Mr. dug the grave...and then overnight it filled w/ water. SO we bailed out the grave--and Buffy insisted on adding a frisbee and a tennis ball to the grave (because those are things the dog loved before he knees went bad-now her knees dont' hurt so...).
I have been pretty quiet on this front because I don't want to burst into tears at my new job, ya know? I don't know these people yet. But All in all, we know it was a good choice. It just still sucks, because all these choices suck. And this doesn't get easier.
But this was last week, the last day I think the dog felt OK, waiting for the bus. Because, I like it:
