Scarlet our 10-year-old Cocker Spaniel died today. Last week she
was healthy, this week her health suddenly declined; by Saturday morning, she looked half dead. She could not take food, water, or walk. I carried her outside so she
could relieve herself. That is how bad it was. To me Scarlet looked like she was in the last stages to life. This alarmed and upset me, I got George out of bed, he
dressed, and off we went to the vet. Our little dog was suffering and that was something neither of us could stand! When we arrived at the vet, she was straggling for
air. I was on the verge of hysteria George said,
“I couldn’t handle this.” George turned into a blubbering idiot.
I grabbed Scarlet, ran to the door, kicked it with my foot, a man opened the door for me then my mind went into a dream like state where everything was happening in
slow motion. We went into a small room and waited for the vet. First, ten, fifteen, twenty, minutes went by and I started crying in hysteria for help. George just babbled
on while trying to calm me down. Finally a vet entered the room and started asking the usual questions in a slow lackadaisical way. Nothing was being done for Scarlet who
lay on the table suffering in front of everyone. I left the room I was so mad, then I reentered the room and still nothing was being done.
I was angry with George and the vet. Then this aide to the vet (who didn’t have a clue) said,
“Has Scarlet had all of her shots?”
My mouth dropped open in disbelief, I replied,
“Our dog is dieing! Why are you asking me about shots! Put our dog to sleep! I want her suffering to end NOW! What’s wrong with you
people!”
“Oh, we didn’t know you wanted us to do that, we thought you wanted us to save the dog.”
Said the vet and on he went talking slowly:
“See the light-yellow coloration in the mouth and around of her eyes this means that the animal is dieing.”
A giant black dot closed in around me and I wondered why I didn’t explode. He was about to tell us what Scarlet’s condition could be cased from when I blurted out:
“Put Scarlet to sleep. Stop her suffering NOW!”
The vet and his assistant jumped, they both left the room. The vet returned shortly with a syringe, he shaved her paw, and then paused to tell us what to expect.
He said, Scarlet would fill nothing after that I heard nothing. George and I just nodded to give our approval. The Vet inserted the needle into Scarlet’s vain, paused
to allow us to say goodbye: George spoke first I don’t recall what he said, then it was my turn. I told Scarlet something like this while George and I stroked Scarlet’s
head and body:
Scarlet, sweet heart, it’s ride-time. You are going on the biggest and longest ride of your life and you get to sit in the front seat. This
ride will take you wherever you want to go. You begin your journey in a place where pain and suffering and big mean dogs and bone snatchers are no more. A place where
doggies feast on anything they want, a place where you can have longer legs if you want, a place where you can run, jump, swim, sleep and play ball as much as you want. A
place where there is so much love that you will never miss us, you will never feel sad, or lonely you will only feel joy. Go now run and play. Enjoy doggie heaven, dear
sweet Scarlet, George and I love you, we will miss you.
I looked up and nodded at the vet, he pushed the plunger forward then removed the needle. He said:
“Scarlet is gone.”
“Just like that?” I said with surprise.
“Yes. Just like that; she felt nothing.” At last the vet said something comforting. The vet and his clueless assistant
left the room leaving George and I alone with Scarlet.
“George.”
“Yes, sweet heart.”
“The moment Scarlet died I had an anomalous experience, I felt wonderful almost elated; it was an accelerating experience—a mixture of
grief, relief then euphoria. Did you feel it?”
“Nothing like that... I felt as if my heart was being pulled out of my chest.”
“I’m sorry. Scarlet is dead. It feels odd now. Look how perfectly still she is; her little spirit is gone.”
Then I remembered what my brother James told me the time he almost died, so I looked upward in the spot where I believe Scarlet’s spirit would hover over her body
and I smiled and waved goodbye to her.
“Look there George, there she is, smile, and wave bye-bye.”
And he did.
“Scarlet’s on her way to doggie heaven.”
We lowered our heads, and silence followed. We then we hugged each other for a long time. I took one last look at our dear Scarlet when suddenly the room filled with
doggie intestinal gas. It was a very unpleasant odor.
Bye Scarlet.
We both said aloud. After that George and I left the room in haste. We drove home in silence, pulled into our parking spot and started laughing. We both remembered the
gas smell at the same time—it was something Scarlet did often. Then we cried. Scarlet was gone, and she had said goodbye in her own special way and no one can’t tell
me otherwise.
Scarlet our 10-year-old Cocker Spaniel died today. Last week she
was healthy, this week her health suddenly declined; by Saturday morning, she looked half dead. She could not take food, water, or walk. I carried her outside so she
could relieve herself. That is how bad it was. To me Scarlet looked like she was in the last stages to life. This alarmed and upset me, I got George out of bed, he
dressed, and off we went to the vet. Our little dog was suffering and that was something neither of us could stand! When we arrived at the vet, she was straggling for
air. I was on the verge of hysteria George said,
