Today I struggle to write fiction. My sweet dog, Sasha has taken her last breath and has gone to live with her daughter, Sophie, who passed at the age of eleven weeks. Rather than attempt to write a chapter, I’ll just take a moment to share with you the most adorable dog to ever grace my life.
Sasha was born on my son’s tenth birthday so we could always remember her birthday. Since he is now twenty-two, she was twelve, and will be forevermore.
She was a princess to the end. When she walked down the street (blind as a bat and no idea where she was going), she lifted her head with dignity and held her fluffy tail high. People asked us all the time, “How old is your puppy?” and we would tell them her age and they would be surprised. She was so youthful.
In a way, she chose the time in her life when she was ready to leave this world because she stopped eating about six days ago. Two days ago, she stopped drinking water also. Dogs aren’t supposed to live more than three to five days without food, and way less than that without water so we have no idea how she stayed alive.
We felt kind of silly bringing an otherwise healthy dog into a veterinary hospital with her tail wagging and her held lifted, almost a smile on her little muzzle. I would have loved for her to take her last breath lying in her bed here in our home but we just couldn’t watch her starve to death. We gave her permission to join her baby and said a tearful goodbye.
Love you forever Sasha.
Love, Clayton, Julie, Virginia, C.J. and Chelsea