I prayed with all my heart for her die then and there, wrapped up in my arms, my lips pressed to the soft, furry top of her head. I’d overheard they were going to put her down, but wanted to wait till the holidays had ended. Including Katie’s birthday party, the reason I was there. Brit seemed so alone though, that I had left the main party room to sit by, hold, stroke, and kiss her. Such a sweet dog, such a loving dog, the way she beckoned me forward by struggling to lift a paw so she could lick my face. Her tongue felt hot and dry against my face, uncomfortable as it was, I encouraged her, she was dieing– she was going to be killed… She needed to feel loved. It’s not that her owner’s weren’t very loving towards her already- they were- like I said- in the middle of a birthday party.
Putting a dog down is murder. It’s mercy killing. I don’t mean to slam it- my family had to put down our second dog because his stomach was bleeding internally and he was suffering, dieing slowly. I almost cried, right there on my friends floor, holding Brit close and whispering, “I love you, I love you, I promise, I promise, heaven, heaven, heaven, I promise, I promise, I promise.” Kissing her between words, stroking her all over that big soft body of hers. I prayed, ‘Let her die now- take her now- here- in my arms while she feels so loved… just incase…. Just incase…’
I don’t know if everyone is aware of this fact or not, but putting a dog down last forever. The minutes drag by as a single needle slowly takes the life and fills with the blood of the poor dog who has to die. It takes several long minutes. I couldn’t say if it’s five or thirty, I DIDN’T TIME IT! But it takes an awful long time. The dogs eyes travel through several stages of life and energy, going lower, lower, and lower, until all that’s left is death. The dog’s eyes don’t seem to ask why or plead to be left alive. Only acceptance and a soft goodbye shines within them. It’s quiet, very quiet, other than the sobs of the owner, stroking, or trying to touch the dog they’re letting be killed off. It is mercy killing. It’s not wrong- in the right situation, but it is so, so heartbreaking.
Brit is such a sweet dog, such a loving dog, I don’t want her to die and I couldn’t say if her owner’s have picked a right situation. I’m not there so I don’t see her suffering the way they do, but I can tell that she is very sad, and I can see pain. If that pain is constant than their decision has my blessing. Brit is obese. NOT just obese- Brit is so big she can barely stand, the action takes almost five minutes, her first step after that, about half as long and her face looks so sad, so pained when she is forced to move. Brit, or Brittany did not die in my arms tonight, so I can only continue to pray that when she goes someone else is stroking and whispering, “I love you. I promise. I promise.”