We lost Lula on Wednesday, November 20 2024. She was eleven years old, which I’m told is about all that can be expected. I hate it. I want to scream.
The truth is, I would never have been ready to lose Lula. She was a once in a lifetime dog. She came to us with a prognosis of blindness as a week’s old puppy. The people that gave her up said she was a cross between a Rhodesian Ridgeback, and a Doberman Pinscher. As it turned out, she wasn’t blind at all. Her eyelids had folded under, and her eyelashes were scraping the cornea of her eyes. Not a great sensation, surly. I know how it is for me when an lash gets into my eye. I’m crippled.
This last week has been horrible. We went to a “Friend’s Giving” celebration on Saturday, and when we got home Lula showed some signs of fatigue. I mean she’s older, so it happens. I’m older. I’m fatigued. But this was different. Her eyes told the story. Cindy and I knew it. Neither of us wanted to say it. But we knew. Lu was telling us. She was on her way out.
For the next few days, we watched and waited. Monday, we knew we had to do something for Lu. We had to make the call. So – from Cindy’s infinite well of strength, she called “Lap of Love” and scheduled Wednesday, for us to say goodbye. I couldn’t make the call. Saying goodbye was unthinkable. I was a coward. I am still unable to say goodbye. I am so broken.
Leading up to the Wednesday, we spent every moment with Lu. She went on walks with us on the greenbelt. She swam in the creek. We’d finish the walk and the swim and think, maybe we were wrong. She had so much life in her when we were out. She ran with me on the trail. She was so alive.
But then we’d get home, and she would have her dinner and then go into a manic, hyper anxiety mode where she paced relentlessly through our home. And her ability to walk diminished, right up until she could barely get out the door Wednesday morning. She had spent her last drop. She had given all she had to give. She was hanging around for us now.
So Dr Kimmie, showed up with her kit of kindness, and we held Lula one last time, while the sedative was delivered and we waited for her body to be ready for the final injection. Then she was asleep.
I loved her so much. I love her still. I wish I could have been the human she thought I was. In the end I was weak. I’m still weak. I hope she forgives me for not wanting to let her go, for not being strong enough to let her go.