Guin Is Gone - RIP
Many of you knew that Guin, my white Shiba, was not doing well just over a month ago. She seemed to bounce back, especially when Chris removed a tick he found on her.
Last week she started going downhill. Not sleeping at night, roaming the living room (we had to put child gates up to keep her in there), yelping when she had to go out to pee. She would sleep for an hour or so and we took turns sleeping in the living room to be with her. The lack of sleep was affecting both of us.
She seemed to be a bit better when we picked up Chris' daughter, C, for Thanksgiving, but last Friday I took her to the vet. He prescribed Valium to help her sleep and while we talked, she had a mild seizure. He looked at me and said, "It's not today, but it will be soon." I knew he meant to put her down.
Took her home, and although the Valium let her sleep a little better, it was still only two hours at a time. On Saturday night, I picked her up, laid down on the couch and held her against my chest. She actually slept for four hours straight, although she had a couple of those mild seizures while I held her.
Sunday I took C home and when I got back home, Guin was yelping. She was laying on the floor and appeared to be hurting. I picked her up, took her out and she peed, although she fell over after. I called Chris at work and told him he would probably have to take Monday off. He knew what I meant.
She tried to roam the living room, but kept falling over. I gave her the Valium and she would fall asleep for a bit. Bandit went over to her (blind as he is) and kissed her or laid down next to her for a bit. When Chris got home, I cried.
We took turns again until 130 am, when I told Chris to go to bed. I stayed up with her until 630 am, giving her Valium one more time to calm her down. At 8 am I called the vet's office and told them it was time. They asked us to bring her in at 2 pm.
I had to do a radio interview at 1015 am and tried to sound upbeat and cheery for that. Afterwards, I had to pay bills and could hear her howling upstairs. I went up and gave Chris a break to take a shower and relax. Then I took a shower. Bandit went over to give her a kiss - I think he knew what was happening. He is one of the smartest dogs I have ever had or known.
Chris drove and I held Guin. She pooped in the car. We went in and they had me lay her down on a blanket on the examining table. These people have known Bandit and Guin for the over 10 years I've lived here and I could see it in their eyes how sad they were, too. Dr. Ross explained how he'd be injecting her and it would be like falling asleep for her. He and Jodie, one of the girls there, injected her and I could see Guin relaxing. Jodie hugged me tight - she was crying, too. They left the room and I went to Guin and kissed her face and told her I loved her. I rubbed her ears - they always felt so soft. Her mouth opened once and a small sound came out and I burst into tears. Chris bent over to kiss her face and whispered something in her ear. He started to cry. He told me later he told her to go run and play and have fun.
We stayed and kept petting her as we watched her breathing slow down. Then she let some gas go and we knew she was gone.
She was a great dog - we always called her the puppy because we got her almost a year after Bandit and she became his puppy. Even as she got older, she never seemed to age - she always looked and acted like a puppy, bouncing around. . .until just over a month ago. It was amazing how fast it all happened.
She and Bandit were well-traveled dogs - going from Okinawa, Japan, where they were born to California, then cross country to Maine, then to Maryland, Canada and other states. I tried to take them with me on my road trips and we had some good adventures. She was spoiled rotten and I wouldn't change a thing. She lived a wonderful life and although I'm very sad, she lived a long time - she was 15, and she's in a better place right now. Maybe my late husband greeted her when she crossed over. I hope so. He loved her, too.
Bandit is a little lost right now. He keeps looking for her and we're trying to pay as much attention to him as possible.
Guinevere Hitchcock, Born March 31, 1993; Died December 1, 2008.
Last week she started going downhill. Not sleeping at night, roaming the living room (we had to put child gates up to keep her in there), yelping when she had to go out to pee. She would sleep for an hour or so and we took turns sleeping in the living room to be with her. The lack of sleep was affecting both of us.
She seemed to be a bit better when we picked up Chris' daughter, C, for Thanksgiving, but last Friday I took her to the vet. He prescribed Valium to help her sleep and while we talked, she had a mild seizure. He looked at me and said, "It's not today, but it will be soon." I knew he meant to put her down.
Took her home, and although the Valium let her sleep a little better, it was still only two hours at a time. On Saturday night, I picked her up, laid down on the couch and held her against my chest. She actually slept for four hours straight, although she had a couple of those mild seizures while I held her.
Sunday I took C home and when I got back home, Guin was yelping. She was laying on the floor and appeared to be hurting. I picked her up, took her out and she peed, although she fell over after. I called Chris at work and told him he would probably have to take Monday off. He knew what I meant.
She tried to roam the living room, but kept falling over. I gave her the Valium and she would fall asleep for a bit. Bandit went over to her (blind as he is) and kissed her or laid down next to her for a bit. When Chris got home, I cried.
We took turns again until 130 am, when I told Chris to go to bed. I stayed up with her until 630 am, giving her Valium one more time to calm her down. At 8 am I called the vet's office and told them it was time. They asked us to bring her in at 2 pm.
I had to do a radio interview at 1015 am and tried to sound upbeat and cheery for that. Afterwards, I had to pay bills and could hear her howling upstairs. I went up and gave Chris a break to take a shower and relax. Then I took a shower. Bandit went over to give her a kiss - I think he knew what was happening. He is one of the smartest dogs I have ever had or known.
Chris drove and I held Guin. She pooped in the car. We went in and they had me lay her down on a blanket on the examining table. These people have known Bandit and Guin for the over 10 years I've lived here and I could see it in their eyes how sad they were, too. Dr. Ross explained how he'd be injecting her and it would be like falling asleep for her. He and Jodie, one of the girls there, injected her and I could see Guin relaxing. Jodie hugged me tight - she was crying, too. They left the room and I went to Guin and kissed her face and told her I loved her. I rubbed her ears - they always felt so soft. Her mouth opened once and a small sound came out and I burst into tears. Chris bent over to kiss her face and whispered something in her ear. He started to cry. He told me later he told her to go run and play and have fun.
We stayed and kept petting her as we watched her breathing slow down. Then she let some gas go and we knew she was gone.
She was a great dog - we always called her the puppy because we got her almost a year after Bandit and she became his puppy. Even as she got older, she never seemed to age - she always looked and acted like a puppy, bouncing around. . .until just over a month ago. It was amazing how fast it all happened.
She and Bandit were well-traveled dogs - going from Okinawa, Japan, where they were born to California, then cross country to Maine, then to Maryland, Canada and other states. I tried to take them with me on my road trips and we had some good adventures. She was spoiled rotten and I wouldn't change a thing. She lived a wonderful life and although I'm very sad, she lived a long time - she was 15, and she's in a better place right now. Maybe my late husband greeted her when she crossed over. I hope so. He loved her, too.
Bandit is a little lost right now. He keeps looking for her and we're trying to pay as much attention to him as possible.
Guinevere Hitchcock, Born March 31, 1993; Died December 1, 2008.
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