I let Hoots and Bon go to the bridge last week. I knew the day was coming, and I will admit to being frightened to make the call to the vet, but something Bob said last week kept going round in my head, and I knew I was keeping them here because I couldn't bear to lose them. They were my pups, and after losing Sugs last year, I couldn't face the pain again. Shame on me for that.

The vet came to the house, and they slipped away quickly, in the warmth and the peace of home, on their sofa, with me. The vet said to me that they were ready to go. It really was a matter of seconds for both of them.

If there can be such a thing as a perfect dog, Hoots was it. He was a gentle and kind, had beautiful manners, and he had no 'side' to him. He loved being around his people, especially all the hulking great teenagers who would descend on the house when the kids were still at home. They all adored the pack as it was then, but they all made a beeline for Hoots when they came round, for a fuss and a cuddle.

Bon was the aloof girl in the pack, very sure of herself, never so deliriously happy as when she was quartering the fields, chasing the scent. She was fearless, reckless and as fast as a whippet. Bon was queen bee who wasn't fazed by visiting dogs, or the bumbling oafs that were the young Boerboels. Sugar used the trail around after Bon, trying to keep up with her scorching over the ditches and crashing through the rough. In recent times, that fearless little dog became anxious and clingy, which was why I'd slept downstairs with her the last few months. It reassured her, and we both got a good four hours sleep.

I made the call to let them go together because they'd been together all their lives, and neither would have understood the loss of the other.

I knew it was coming, I thought I was prepared. I was not.

Hoots and Bon, you were so loved and cherished. I miss you dreadfully.

Oh, no, Tracey, I'm so very sorry. All of us here on the board knew this day was coming for you. You've talked about it before. But I know there is nothing that can really prepare you for that kind of a loss. We all love our dogs as family, and the pain is devastating.

I think, if anything good can be said of this, it's that, number one, you made a decision for them that was so very difficult for you, but it was a final act of love and compassion for them; two, that you decided to let them go together; and three, that the vet came to your home to do it. That last one is an option not all of us have.

Hoots and Bon know how much you loved them. They are free of pain and fear. My heart goes out to you and your family.

We are very, very sorry for your loss, Tracey.

 Quote: tracey holden

I let Hoots and Bon go to the bridge last week. I knew the day was coming, and I will admit to being frightened to make the call to the vet, but something Bob said last week kept going round in my head, and I knew I was keeping them here because I couldn't bear to lose them. They were my pups, and after losing Sugs last year, I couldn't face the pain again. Shame on me for that.

The vet came to the house, and they slipped away quickly, in the warmth and the peace of home, on their sofa, with me. The vet said to me that they were ready to go. It really was a matter of seconds for both of them.

If there can be such a thing as a perfect dog, Hoots was it. He was a gentle and kind, had beautiful manners, and he had no 'side' to him. He loved being around his people, especially all the hulking great teenagers who would descend on the house when the kids were still at home. They all adored the pack as it was then, but they all made a beeline for Hoots when they came round, for a fuss and a cuddle.

Bon was the aloof girl in the pack, very sure of herself, never so deliriously happy as when she was quartering the fields, chasing the scent. She was fearless, reckless and as fast as a whippet. Bon was queen bee who wasn't fazed by visiting dogs, or the bumbling oafs that were the young Boerboels. Sugar used the trail around after Bon, trying to keep up with her scorching over the ditches and crashing through the rough. In recent times, that fearless little dog became anxious and clingy, which was why I'd slept downstairs with her the last few months. It reassured her, and we both got a good four hours sleep.

I made the call to let them go together because they'd been together all their lives, and neither would have understood the loss of the other.

I knew it was coming, I thought I was prepared. I was not.

Hoots and Bon, you were so loved and cherished. I miss you dreadfully.

Oh God, both of them at once I know it was the right call, but twice as painful for you, so shattering that I can't even begin to imagine ... Unselfishly BRAVE of you, and I believe that Hoots & Bon are very grateful -- For whatever it may be worth, please just know how much we mourn with you, and wish we could at least share a cuppa in person to reminisce once you felt up to it, dear Tracey.

((((((((HUGS))))))))))

It's a decision we all have to make sooner or later and I firmly believe you made the right one at the right time.

There are to many great memories these two gave you, Hoots in particular.

Those will always be in your heart so think of those memories and cherish them.

I'm so sorry, Tracy. We all, who have animals know we have to lose them some day. But this is not much comfort. Once the moment comes it's all so different. Such an immense loss. But you've decided well. Great, they died at home, great they could go together. If not, one of them would have been additionally suffering from the loss of his lifetime companion. I know it is so hard to bear, though knowing you have taken the right decision and having the wonderful memories forever will over time help you more than anything.

https://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images;_ylt=Awr9DtaesuFbaXEAsk5XNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTByNWU4cGh1BGNvbG8DZ3ExBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDBHNlYwNzYw--?p=elysian+fields&fr=yfp-t-s

Ancient Greeks called heaven the "Elysian Fields"...

Last night, as a tribute to the memory of Hoots & Bon and their forever place in your heart, I watched my well-worn copy of "Where the Red Fern Grows" -- It's the unforgettable Last Scene where inseparable Ol' Dan & Little Anne, who passed together due to their great love for one another, are once again hunting as a brace in that Eternal Countryside which does our Canine Companions such an indelible honor ... When you can bear it, I hope you'll watch that wonderful DVD again yourself & know how much we all care, Tracey.

 Quote: tracey holden

I let Hoots and Bon go to the bridge last week. I knew the day was coming, and I will admit to being frightened to make the call to the vet, but something Bob said last week kept going round in my head, and I knew I was keeping them here because I couldn't bear to lose them. They were my pups, and after losing Sugs last year, I couldn't face the pain again. Shame on me for that.

The vet came to the house, and they slipped away quickly, in the warmth and the peace of home, on their sofa, with me. The vet said to me that they were ready to go. It really was a matter of seconds for both of them.

If there can be such a thing as a perfect dog, Hoots was it. He was a gentle and kind, had beautiful manners, and he had no 'side' to him. He loved being around his people, especially all the hulking great teenagers who would descend on the house when the kids were still at home. They all adored the pack as it was then, but they all made a beeline for Hoots when they came round, for a fuss and a cuddle.

Bon was the aloof girl in the pack, very sure of herself, never so deliriously happy as when she was quartering the fields, chasing the scent. She was fearless, reckless and as fast as a whippet. Bon was queen bee who wasn't fazed by visiting dogs, or the bumbling oafs that were the young Boerboels. Sugar used the trail around after Bon, trying to keep up with her scorching over the ditches and crashing through the rough. In recent times, that fearless little dog became anxious and clingy, which was why I'd slept downstairs with her the last few months. It reassured her, and we both got a good four hours sleep.

I made the call to let them go together because they'd been together all their lives, and neither would have understood the loss of the other.

I knew it was coming, I thought I was prepared. I was not.

Hoots and Bon, you were so loved and cherished. I miss you dreadfully.

Oh, Tracey ... my heart breaks for you. I'm so sorry. But so glad that they had you to help them -- to ignore your own pain and to think only of them.

I know your pain, and I wish there were words to help ...

Sending hugs. I can feel your pain in your words.
You are very brave and selfless. Huge hugs your way!

Thank you all so much for your kindness and support, I know you all understand more than just about everyone else I know what it's all about.

Candi, there have been many times over the years when a cup of tea with my forum friends would have been the answer to many a rough day's sadness, I wish it could be so. I will watch the film you told me about one day when things aren't so raw. It was a lovely thing you did in the memory of Hoots and Bon. Thank you.

I'm trying to adjust to sleeping in a bed again, and coming down to an empty sitting room, and after work to a dark, silent house. I feel like a stranger in my own home.

One day at a time ....