CJ...
just remember that you are helping him take away all his pain and discomfort.

And although losing him will be hard, you're doing it because there is no sacrifice too big to ease the pain of a loved one.

We have all been there at some point... And in a way, we are all reliving our own experiences as you go through yours. You are doing the right thing.

I remember watching a documentary on the euthanasia of unadoptable shelter dogs a few years ago. When it was their turn, the shelter manager took them on a long car ride. She let them stick their head out the window and ride up front in the car. Then she took them to a park and let them run and play unleashed. After that, they went through the McDonald's Drive-Thru and the dog got big fat cheeseburger! The last stop was at the vet's.... But only after the best day she could give them.

You've been given a gift...you have a few precious last days with Edward. You can make them his best EVER. When he finally goes, he will be so very happy and loved. I'm not saying to take your dog to McDonald's. Just make sure he gets his "cheeseburger" so to speak! Surround him in his favorite things.. And have no regrets.

 Quote: Barbara Schuler

 Quote: CJ Barrett

God give me strength.

He will.

He did.

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I work for our Provincial government and amongst having 3 new trainees attached to my side I was scheduled to give a workshop on Wednesday morning. I hadn’t slept at all that night, thinking only of spending Edward’s final days with him and how was I going to go about even asking for this. My boss knew something was wrong when I walked in that morning and his compassion got the tears flowing immediately. He told me to go home, take care of myself and my loved one and he would take care of everything else. This was huge, my first miracle.

The boys were so happy to have me home. We spent every waking moment together as a truly united pack. Did obedience as Edward watched from his cushion on the porch. He barked off orders when the tug sessions developed too much energy, he liked things calm in the end and we all respected that. We all went shopping together and enjoyed two long back road drives with the heat cranked and windows down. We stopped and went for short walks and enjoyed picnic lunches. The most incredible time I have ever had.

Saturday morning came and Edward’s face was glowing when he saw me. If dogs can smile, he was beaming. Eyes twinkling and calling me to him. I thought, “What am I doing?” He’s so happy, how can I take life away from him. Then he tried to get up, quietly made a wince from the pain and had to catch his breath from the exertion. It became all too clear that this was a final “gift” I had to give him.

We went for a pack walk around the neighborhood and then he enjoyed a good breakfast (a brick of cheese, a package of bacon, peanut butter toast, liver treats) and some ice cream.

We got him in the vehicle and I felt like I was leading a lamb to slaughter. He was so innocent and happy to be coming with us. Then all of sudden the tears stopped and we started to “ease on down the road”. I got this overwhelming feeling that he knew and was at peace with it and wanted me to be too. I felt this strength come over me and he finally put his head down to rest the remainder of the way.

Bob went in and took care of the payment and I crawled in back of our SUV. He came out with the vet and her assistant. She explained that he was going to take one, maybe two deep breaths and would simply fall asleep. His eyes would remain open and there may be some twitching once he was gone. She put a shearer on his front leg to expose a vein and he fussed a little. It was noisy so I asked her if she could run it for bit first so he could get used to the noise. She did and he was fine. She inserted a large needle into the vein with a tube attached. There was a syringe at the end of the tubing with blue liquid. As she pushed in the plunger he closed his eyes and fell asleep in my arms. We waited for the breath; there was nothing. She checked his heart and said he was gone. This is when the tears started again and Bob finally broke down too. She told us to take our time and she left. Bob crawled in and we held each other and Edward. There was no movement or twitching.

Everything she said would happen never did. No last breath, his eyes closed and there was no involuntary movement. He was so peaceful and we finally both felt some relief. This was the first time I truly felt like we were/we did do the right thing. We talked about the boys on our way home and thanks to all of you; we knew they would be showing us a unique view on death and would help us through this.

Bob carried him into the yard and I went in to get the boys. We discussed standing on the porch, away from the body, so the boys wouldn’t have any of our influence through this process. I noticed the video camera on the table and asked Bob if we should capture this. He said sure so I let the boys out and started the camera.

They spotted him immediately and all went over to him. They were all so individual in their actions. The big area of interest was where he was shaved, the injection spot. This process lasted about 2 minutes then they started looking to us for direction. We gave them another 5 minutes as we went in and made some coffees for the trek to our property.

We shed many tears as we lowered our fallen pack member into the ground and covered him dirt. The boys all sat quietly in a triangle formation and watched us. As we headed out for the walk, my young one stopped and looked at us. Then he took off and headed back to the grave, the husky followed. When we got there, he was digging furiously. I knelt down beside him and gently put my hand on his paws. He looked me in the eyes with a longing that I’ve never seen before. The other two were sitting and watching us intently. I gave him a big hug and said “It’s time to go”. We headed out in silence and enjoyed a peaceful walk.

The house is very quiet this morning.

I'm sorry, CJ.

So glad that you guys got to have those last few days together. It really sounded wonderful.

There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.
It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of the many colors.
Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land
of meadows, hills, and valleys with lush green grass.

When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place.
There is always food and warm spring weather.
The old and frail are made young again.
They play all day with each other.

There is only one thing missing. They are not with
their special person who loved them on Earth.
So, each day they run and play, until the day comes
when one suddenly stops playing and looks up!
The nose twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are starting!
And this one runs from the ground!

You have been seen,
and when you and your special friend meet,
you take him or her in your arms and embrace.
Your face is kissed again and again and again,
and you look once more into the eyes of your trusted friend.

Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together,
never again to be separated.

Be at peace, C.J. You did good.

You did what the best pack leaders do.

My heart is with you.

One of the hardest things in the world to do...my heart goes out to you. RIP Edward.

good job cj and bob. as anne said, oneof the hardest things in the world to do, and like connie said, it's what a good pack leader does.

i'm glad you got to "ease him on down the road". it helps a little, for me.

and i'm especially glad that you had the joy and pleasure of Edward in your life, and he had the joy and pleasure of you in his. take care.

Wouldn't it be so very wonderful if we humans could all be so blessed as to have someone help us at the end of our journey, to "ease us down the road"?

CJ and Bob,
My sincere and deep condolences. Your posts have been absolutely and incredibly touching.

What a beautiful life you gave to Edward and how rich the rewards of having him as well as your pack there these past days.( as well as years)

How I admire your eloquence and how my heart goes out to you.
Thank you for sharing CJ.
Take good care and know you are thought about during this difficult time.