Working On A Quirky Graph

I sent Ginger over the Rainbow bridge yesterday. She has been having trouble walking, holding herself upright, and wearing these last few days. I knew another trip to the vet would stress her out so I ended up calling a service to come out and administer the final drugs to send her on her way.

She was cranky with me because I wasn’t feeding her, frustrated by the lack of choices in soft food. I had the vet call before she came in so that Ginger wouldn’t freak out and run when she heard someone at the door. Once I got the call that she was less than 10 minutes out, I carried Ginger everywhere so she wouldn’t have a chance to hide under the bed. She wasn’t super happy about the forced togetherness. Since she weighed less than 6 pounds though, there wasn’t a lot she could do about it.

Gracie sat next to us on the couch while the drugs slowly stopped Ginger’s heart. She would nudge my arm a couple of times and then, put her face up to Ginger’s side. Ginger had passed by then, I’m holding her and rocking back and forth while Gracie curled up and watched.

The vet gently reminded me I could move Ginger to the basket they provided at my convenience, which was the verbal push I needed to let Ginger go. After laying her out, I just stood back and bawled. After the vet left, Gracie and I moved to the bedroom where we could cuddle and mourn in peace. Gracie hasn’t much left the bed, opting to grab a bite, get a drink, hit the litter box and go back to sleep on the heating pad. If I’m in the room she has a paw on me. Patting my face in the middle of the night to either turn the heating pad back on or tell me to quit snoring.

I’ve had these girls for almost 15 years. They’ve moved all over the Midwest with me, endured more dogs than they were comfortable with, survived my disappointing relationships and never once tried to smother me in my sleep.

It’s been odd today. I have kept thinking I heard Ginger yelling at me from another room about her food dish situation. I’d be halfway up and moving toward the kitchen before I remembered. I’ll get used to the silence, but I kind of hope it will be a minute before I do.