I am crying and can barely type.i remember when we put our lab, Homer, down. He had gone from100lbs to 70 lbs and we made the appt. in advance. The absolutely worst, horrible part was that he was having a "good day"on that particular day, He trotted into the vets office all happy to see his vet tech friends and tried to run back to the kennels where we had boarded him multiple times. Our vet is wonderful. Didn't charge a dime for euthenasia. We carried him out on a gurney, wrapped in a quilt my great grandmother had made. People in the lobby who had seen him walk in were crying as we carried him out. We took him home and buried him in the back ywrd, where he had lain and watched his daddy dig the hole (crying the whole time) a couple of days before. Even though I am a nurse and can tell dead from alive, it took everything in my being to not dig him up over the next 2 days, because I was
sure we had buried him alive.
It took us over 5 years to get another dog, and
that was at thie insistance of a friend who said we had grieved long enough. She is the one who gave us Huey.
We had Homer from 9 weeks old (according to the humane society, where I got him) to the ripe old age of 13. Pretty good for a big dog.
Yorkiemom55, I didn't mean to hijack this thread, but 10 years later, I still grieve for my old Homer-dog. I can't even imagine what will happen to me when something happens to Huey. He is so much more my child than even Homer was.
Yeah, I know. These old ladies who never had kids who dote on their yorkies...
