Yesterday, I realized it was Ayla's birthday. She would've been 17 years old yesterday.
99% of me is sure I made the right decision. It is never easy. This time had been especially tough. The tumor in her mouth not only had poked out of the skin but had ulcerated. She could barely open her mouth to eat. On the other hand, she still had a lot of spunk left in her. However, we were watching her die in front of us, a slow and painful death.
When we saw Dr. Bob on the 5th, he said she had only a week or two at most. We knew going in that this might be her last visit. She had lost another pound in the two weeks since we had seen him last and that's when we knew. I loved her so much and to see her face and the rest of her body get slowly and painfully eaten away by that disease was heartbreaking. Was giving her two weeks worth it? There was barely anything left of her physically, so who was I doing this for? Her or me? I knew I had no other choice to make.
She went so quickly. Dr. Bob had barely inserted the needle and I could feel her slipping away. It was like she was eager to join her old friend Xanadu who had crossed the Bridge so long ago. It also told me how truly sick she was. As her body relaxed I still see all the strain and pain work its way out of her face. Up until then I didn't know how much pain she had been in, but now I knew. Dr. Bob told me afterwards that I had made the right decision since she passed so quickly. I know I had but it still hurt.
I keep my favorite picture of her on my desk now in a place of honor. I still cry when I think about her and sometimes a trick of the eye makes me see her in her favorite spot: my pillow.
I will always miss you dear friend.
You were good to me through some of the toughest times of my life.
I hope I was able to return that favor to you.
I will always love you my sweet little grump.
Have fun with Xanadu, Moose, and Boo Boo.