Now resting in peace

It's done.

Last night was the first night in years that the Jeeps did not sleep in the doorway of my room, guarding my bed. Instead he slept on his towel in front of the fireplace and I dozed on the couch, keeping watch over him for a change.

This morning I got the vet on the phone as soon as the office opened, and he was able to recommend a different clinic that does house calls. So I made the appointment and then sat with the Jeeps and fed him little bits of Milkbone and roasted chicken, which he sharked down as usual – a last little bit of pleasure I'm glad I got to see him enjoy. At 11 a.m. two sweet young blonde vet techs arrived with a little case of equipment and a yellow and red blanket. I held the Jeeps with one hand petting his forehead and the other hand on his heart, and in just a few minutes it was over.

As odd as it may sound I'm really grateful I got to be with him at that moment. For one thing, my being there meant Mr. A didn't have to be, and that was a good thing. He'd already said good-bye several hours earlier, before he left for work. He was so distraught he didn't want to see the very end, and I didn't think there was any reason to press him on that. I've finally learned to trust that most people know what they need in situations like this.

For me, staying present and engaged seems to be the least painful approach, even when the situation pretty much sucks. Denial, distraction, resistance, euphemizing, rehearsing the impending imagined drama over and over again inside my head – doing that makes me feel trapped, strangled, clouded and overwhelmed, in addition to sad.

Now, when I think back to this day, I'll know we both did everything we needed to do, for ourselves, for each other, and for the Jeeps. I feel like my experience of knowing and loving him is as complete as it's possible to be.

So that's it. The blankets and towels are in the dryer, his dish is washed and put away. I searched the house and yard for any final errant poops and disposed of them. Before the vets arrived I took a few pictures, though I don't expect Mr. A will want to see them, and made a paw impression in clay and clipped some hair for a memorial piece to be made later. These things I've set aside until ... I guess until the time feels right to mention they exist.

In the meantime, there doesn't seem to be anything else to say except that even after all this time and anticipation it still feels pretty unreal to know he's really, truly gone.