RIP, Thrace, my beautiful brindle baby. I know you're with my mom on the other side. I've spent yesterday as a bit of an Irish wake (if you know what I mean) remembering my dog and others I've loved who have died. I had to let her go early Monday morning, (July 29th), around 5 am. She went quickly in my arms. I held her, kissed her and talked to her throughout everything. I stayed with her body for a bit. I just wanted to see her off properly. I didn't even get that chance with my mother when she died, but all loved ones deserve that. She went surrounded by as much love as I could muster.
I know I made the right decision as she was showing all the signs of a late stage brain tumor. I got her from the pound (for $18!) 7 years ago, and she was about a couple of years old then. So she was about 9 or 10. We spent 7 years together and she was the dog I've had the longest who was my own. (I had a golden retriever for 2 years before he was stolen from me.)
Thrace loved people. She obviously didn't have a great life beforehand, but she was very social and loved to check out everyone and everything. She wanted to know everyone. She was a beautiful, athletic pittie who loved to run around, belly rubs and kissing your face and head. She did her best to be a lapdog, although she didn't really fit.
I could go on and on about this sweet doggo but I just love her and always will. It's too quiet here now and I've no one to urge me outside now. That's the worst part of grief - the noticable lack of presence. It commands tremendous adjustment. My cat, Penny, knows something is wrong and seems a bit bewildered. She knows something is wrong and Thrace isn't coming back. She's being extremely affectionate. Mom used to call her Nurse Penny for a reason. She obviously misses having someone to play with (i.e. bully) besides me.
RIP and sleep well, Thrace. Wait for me.
I know I made the right decision as she was showing all the signs of a late stage brain tumor. I got her from the pound (for $18!) 7 years ago, and she was about a couple of years old then. So she was about 9 or 10. We spent 7 years together and she was the dog I've had the longest who was my own. (I had a golden retriever for 2 years before he was stolen from me.)
Thrace loved people. She obviously didn't have a great life beforehand, but she was very social and loved to check out everyone and everything. She wanted to know everyone. She was a beautiful, athletic pittie who loved to run around, belly rubs and kissing your face and head. She did her best to be a lapdog, although she didn't really fit.
I could go on and on about this sweet doggo but I just love her and always will. It's too quiet here now and I've no one to urge me outside now. That's the worst part of grief - the noticable lack of presence. It commands tremendous adjustment. My cat, Penny, knows something is wrong and seems a bit bewildered. She knows something is wrong and Thrace isn't coming back. She's being extremely affectionate. Mom used to call her Nurse Penny for a reason. She obviously misses having someone to play with (i.e. bully) besides me.
RIP and sleep well, Thrace. Wait for me.
