R.I.P. Leia

A week ago, we took Leia for euthanasia. She had come to us emaciated, and had grown sleek here; but by the time that she died she was again very thin. She could no longer stand unaided. She was incontinent. She had cataracts. And sometimes a bit senile. But we did not want her to die until we felt that she would have more bad times than good times.

The night before she died we were sure that the time was right. She wouldn't even eat egg, just a few of the biscuits which I had baked (which no humans except for me would eat, haha!). She could barely raise her head. I sat with her for a long time and cried and chatted to her.

Her last morning was spent lying in the sun. Then we took her to bed, and he gave her an overdose of barbiturates. She died in the car. Before we buried her, I saw that her tongue was going dark grey -- it is always important for me to see something like that, otherwise I have nightmares about having buried a dog alive. We buried her in the yard, and planted flowers on top of her. Although we cried a lot that day, we felt peaceful when we looked at that spot in the yard, because we knew that what we had done was the best thing for her.

Anton saw her before we buried her, and asked no futher questions. Since then he has been quite unwell from his own ailments and in a lot of pain.