I’m writing this post on January 2, 2025. We said goodbye to Gizmo on September 3, 2024. I wrote some notes the day of so I could capture my feelings, but it’s taken me months to feel like I really want to sit down and publish this. A little while ago my friend Rachel encouraged me to keep writing when I am ready. She told me it was helpful for her to understand this process, the resources we used, and make sure that when the time comes (hopefully a long time from now) she won’t be in a position of wondering what to do too late to have it be the way she wants. Maybe it’ll help others, too. I’ve appreciated my friends and family that have read it and followed his journey. I owe them the ending. I’m finally ready, but still crying as I’m writing this.
Sept 3, 2024: Euthenasia Day
I woke up at 2am to Gizmo hanging half off the bed in an attempt to go get some water and helped him. He eventually came back to bed (with some help up) and was playful and crawling up on me to demand more cuddles because he can clearly never get enough of them. Holy hell I’m going to miss the comfort of my weighted blanked/teddy bear. It hit me that this is our last time sleeping together. Yesterday I brushed him for the last time. There’s a lot of “lasts” right now. My stomach was in knots knowing that later this morning I’d have to give the okay for the vet to give him the fatal shot. I have to let him rest and end his suffering, but mine is just beginning. I cried myself back to sleep after he settled back down himself.
Gizmo didn’t really want to get out of bed in the morning, so we hand fed him breakfast in bed then he went back to sleep. He was lightly kicking while he dreamt, and I just relished the feeling of those little signs of life against me for a while longer.
About an hour before his Lap of Love appointment we finally made him get out of bed and put him in his cart for a potty walk. I realized he was supposed to have physical therapy this afternoon and I hadn’t cancelled it yet. I called and as soon as the receptionist answered the phone, I lost it and couldn’t talk through my tears for a few moments. I did eventually get the words out, and she reminded me of how much we’d done for him and that she’s sure it was the right decision though difficult. It was so much harder to make that call than I had expected. I asked Colin to call and cancel the chemo sessions since I couldn’t do it twice.
We took our last photos together before coming in to prepare for the appointment.
Dr Michelle from Lap of Love was great. She was very patient and let us go at our own pace. Gizmo got up and barked at her when she entered and then was happy to have us all sit on the floor and pet him and give him tons of treats. Dr Michelle gave him a sedative and we pet him and told him how he was the bestest boy in the world as he drifted off to sleep. Dr Michelle was testing his foot to see if he was fully out, but I’d recently learned that he had some nerve damage in his paws so I also tested his ear to be sure. He shook his head quite a bit when I stuck my finger in and it made me laugh a bit. Eventually he was fully asleep so Dr. Michelle put a potty pad under him, put the IV in his leg, and let us know she was ready when we were. I didn’t want to draw it out too long. We spent a long time making this decision and know it’s the right one. He was deep asleep and we’d told him everything we wanted to. So I told her to go ahead and give the final shot. It didn’t take long and was very peaceful. She listened for his heart to stop while we pet him and then she told us when he was at peace. After we carefully laid him on a stretcher and wrapped him in a blanket, Dr Michelle took a fur clipping and a paw impression for us. We’d previously decided that we didn’t want his ashes and would do a group cremation since Gizmo wouldn’t like being alone in a strange new place. We took him on the stretcher out to the vehicle and he looked so peaceful laying there. Up until that point I’d been doing well. Once he was in the car I couldn’t let her close the door though. I realized this would be the last time I’d see him, and I lost it. I was hyperventilating and couldn’t stop crying. Eventually, I gave in. Once I let her close the door, I didn’t stick around to watch her drive away. It was done.
Colin and I went back inside and looked at some puppy pictures together with a mixture of laughter and crying. I took a few days off of work to let myself grieve. I’m typically the type to bury my emotions and get on with whatever needs done, but I’m working on living with my emotions more. I feel so sad. I feel the quiet and the emptiness in the house without my giant dog with his giant personality. I feel some relief that he doesn’t have to hurt anymore and can finally rest and be at peace. I don’t feel guilty over the decision, but knowing it’s right doesn’t make it hurt any less. He’s been my everything for the past 7.5 years. As I went to go to sleep, I could close my eyes and imagine him laying on the floor at the foot of the bed squirming to get into the right position and huffing once he decided on his spot and position to sleep. It’s all so familiar and I can imagine it’s real for a moment.