We had to euthanize Kelpie, today. Lymphoma with a poor prognosis. I knew last night, while I was taking care of her that it was probably too late for anything to do any good.
But she's back home, now, and buried. We found some beautiful natural slate to cover the grave with. I feel better, knowing she's home. For some reason, I always get restless until they return. Even when Bandit had to be euthanized, I didn't relax until he was back--still there with his pack in some small way. But. Shade, Kelpie's last remaining sister, stayed by the truck while we were packing Kelpie up to go to the vet's, then stayed by her grave for a long while when it was over.
For it's own sake, here's some background on Miss Kelpie:
Kelpie [and Shade along with her] has been around for exactly half of my life. I'm 22, and she was born when I was 11 (May, '98), and she passed away when she was 11.
She was also the runt of the litter. A beautiful little girl with brindle markings at her muzzle and paws amidst the solid, long haired black (her mom, Sydney, was a purebred golden retriever; her father, Buddy, was a chocolate lab mix). I don't know if it was because of her "runt" status, but she never got along with Blondie, who passed some years ago. In fact, Blondie almost killed her [and got Shade and Bandit into it, too]. We separated them, then, into 2 packs. She was also the only dog [besides Sproutz before he passed] that Ben could stand to be around.
She was absolutely wonderful around the girls and any new animals [old, young, what have you]. She was one of the best-natured dogs we've ever had.
Her nicknames include: Kelp, Stinky Lady (had a tendency to roll in stinky stuff, we'd often call her 'Bronx's Stinky Lady' 'cause that boy was infatuated with her), and Killer Kelpie (she was the first to draw blood as a puppy).
I don't know. It's just so strange to think of her as gone, now.