Yesterday I got a very sad call from my mom.
My mother's dog, Willie, had been off for the past few days. The poor thing had been laying about and it took some serious effort from my mom to get her to move. Willie is normally a busy little soul that keeps track of my mother and follows her about the house, classic behavior from a smooth dachshund.
So my mother decided to take her in to the vet.
The initial findings were that Willie was severely anemic, cause unknown.
This led to further testing and it was discovered that Willie had an enormous tumor. It was amazing that she could functional at all. Since Willie was no longer a young little pup, in fact pushing 14 if I recall correctly, my mother decided that the kindest thing to do was to put her to sleep.
Willie breathed her last breath in the arms of my mother, the person she adored most in the world. It was a heartbreaking moment and even the vet cried.
I wish I could have been there. Larry and I had picked out Willie and brought her out to my mom. She was the half sister to our dear Rally and was almost exactly a year younger than Rally.
But instead of being there for the end, I have been charged with the task of finding my mother a new dog. One phone call later I already have not one, but two likely prospects.
I guess I'm in charge of new beginnings and that is a pretty good job.