It's been a year since we knew the end was near.

I pretty much stopped blogging about Sadie a week after she died. It was hard to do, and we got adopted a new dog not even a month later. Because I found myself forever comparing Bailey to Sadie (and Sadie wins pretty much every time), I more or less decided that was the end of Sadie's blog. That Jordan got bored with it was also a contributing factor.

But thanks to Facebook's "On This Day" feature, I was reminded that we found out that Sadie had cancer on 9/11. I actually thought it was a different day; 9/11 normally depresses me so much as it is, so I am surprised that sad Sadie day would not have stuck with me. In any event, I felt that I needed to come here to commemorate (for lack of a better word) that day. So here I am.

It seems so hard to believe that it has been over a year since we were given that heart-breaking news. I still think about Sadie a lot. I often wonder if I would think about her as much if we did not have Bailey. Maybe I would think about her more. With pets, at least for me, and maybe just because we have another, time really did help to heal my heart. I still miss Sadie, but I have not cried about her in a long time.

For the first few week after Sadie died, I cried daily. Maybe that even lasted a month or more. But eventually life got in the way and she was pushed further back into my mind. We keep Sadie's box with her ashes, along with two pictures, her collar, a hand-drawn card and picture from my niece, and a book about dogs on a shelf above one of the couches in our living room. Sometimes when I dust that shelf (which is only about once a month), I get sad. Only recently did Bailey start sleeping on that  coach occassionally. Part of me believe that Sadie's ghost has shooed her away.

About a month or two ago, in the later evening, Bri said that Bailey was staring at the wall near the couch, and her tail was wagging. He got up and tried to figure out what she was looking at. He found no toys, no bugs. Nothing. When he told me the story, I right away thought it had to be Sadie. Maybe she was somehow communicating with Bailey and telling her it was okay for her to stay. If Sadie really is/has a ghost, and happens to be a ghost who can hear, then she knows how much we love and miss her and how often I say, "Bailey, Sadie would never do that." or "Sadie was so much better."

I feel a little bad about saying that to Bailey, but I am 99 percent sure she has no idea what I am saying

But maybe Sadie does. And that's okay by me. :-)

Puppy Sadie

The hubs found this picture of Sadie in the kid's playroom/study room. I don't remember Sadie ever looking this young, but here she is, after she had been living with us for two months.

Such a baby/puppy!

One of my favorite Sadie memories

Here I am 3.5 days after we said good bye to our Sadie, and I am doing okay. There are more hours between the tears now (no tears so far today, at 8:45 a.m.).

The house feels kind of empty without her. Empty probably is not the best adjective, though. It is more like something is missing. Something that was such a integral part of our house for 12 years, 4 months, and 10 days.

This morning I was remembering one of my favorite Sadie memories, something I wished I had captured on video, but it would have been nearly impossible to do. One evening, as the hubs and I were watching TV, Sadie was either licking herself like the cat we were convinced she partially was, or else she was scratching at the floor or couch. Although this was very annoying and disgusting, I could usually tolerate it (although I would reprimand her). The hubs, on the other hand, would typically sternly tell her to go.

That particular evening, true to form, the hubs told her to get out of the room. She left, and I felt sorry for her, as I always do when she is scolded (I was not the best pet parent, as I often let Sadie get away with a lot). Not even two minutes later, she was in the doorway (which was about 8 feet away, directly across from where I was sitting), waiting. Then, she slowly lowered her body and very deliberately practically started crawling into the room. I pointed this out to my husband, as he could not see this from where he was sitting. Once she came into his view, still slinking, we both tried not to laugh. She really thought if she lowered her body an inch or two and moved at a snail's pace, the hub would not notice she came back in.

Of course, she kept coming/crawling, and proceeded to sit on the floor next to the chair where the hubs was sitting. Neither of us did anything, because how could you shoo her away after that?

Sadie, I miss you already.

At just after 6 p.m. this evening, Sadie took her last breath. I was with her until the end, talking gently to her (and crying). I am so glad I was the last face she saw. But it was so very hard. 

When it was over, she looked so peaceful. I rubbed her and told her how much I loved her. It was very hard to leave.

I have been home for about an hour and a half, and I can barely stop crying. At one point my chest felt so tight and it was almost hard to breath. I did not think it would be this hard. God bless the kid; she is taking it so much better than I. 

The house feels empty and lonely, which I know is not the most sensical thing to say or feel when you have people in it. But that is how I feel.

My heart is broken into a million pieces. I know my Sadie is not suffering anymore. But I sure am without her.

I love you, puppy. I will miss you terribly. 

One of the quirks I will miss about Sadie

Sadie was (I keep typing was, but for the next 22.5 hours it is still is) IS the snuggliest dog. Most of the time she likes to lie on people, pillows, and blankets, not always in that order. 

Like most dogs, she likes to move herself and things, particularly blankets, around, so she can feel just right. This has resulting in her digging at my comforter, blanket, and sheets on my bed many times. And that has resulted in her ripping a hole in at least four fitted sheets as well as several comforters. Yes, I did learn after the first few ruined pairs, but apparently I have not learned how to keep my door closed.

Despite Sadie's penchant for most things soft, she does this one strange thing: Sometimes when she is lying under the dining room table while we are eating, she will rest her head on the chair leg rail. 

It cannot be comfortable, and I don't know why she does it.

That's just our Sadie, I guess.

More than just a dog

In 23 hours we will be saying good bye to Sadie. That is less than a day. It is not enough time. But in some ways it has been too much.

Poor Sadie got sick again yesterday. Twice. I am sure most of her is ready.

Last night the kid and I had a sleepover with Sadie in my bed. I doubt I got four hours of sleep; I never went more than 1.5 hours without waking up. I was so concerned she was going to get sick again, that I could not fall asleep. 

For quite a few months the oddest sounds have been coming from Sadie's stomach as well as from her rear. Every sound which escaped her body last night  jolted me. Finally around 3:30, I was thinking we were safe. By then Sadie had managed to lie sideways, and the kid was halfway off the bed. So I had to move her, which was not easy because she is quite bony, and I was afraid I would hurt her. Luckily, I moved her via dragging the comforter slightly, and we managed to get a little sleep until the next round of sounds.

Right now I am sitting with her on her blanket. She has eaten lots of treats today, and has been given lots of hugs, kisses, and snuggles.

She is so much more than a dog to me.

Just a few more days

I cannot believe we have three nights left with our Sadie. We have scheduled her "end-of-life" appointment for Monday at 6 p.m. I am sure I will spend most of the day at work crying.

I go back and forth, wondering if we are doing the right thing. I am 95 percent sure we are. Sadie has really gone downhill these past few days. She got sick a few times on Saturday, but then was fine up until yesterday. Lately, she has been waking up early, in need of going outside. But these page few mornings, she did not even want to get up from her blanket that she sleeps on. And she has really cut back on her eating. For her weight, she is supposed to eat about two cans of dog food a day (we switched her over to canned food about 1.5 months ago, at first mixing wet and dry; about three weeks ago, she stopped eating the dry). But the past few days, she eats a can. Maybe. She has also started to sporadically reject her treats.

She has been drinking a lot of water. We bought this water purifier thing for her almost a year ago. There is a huge container on the top, from where the water works its way down, and which is the reason we bought it (she started drinking a lot about a year ago). We typically fill it up every few days. As I cleaned it out and filled it up this afternoon, I wondered if this would be my final time of doing that.

Today, Sadie got sick a few times. I was not here, but the hubs cleaned it up.

She still manages to go to the bathroom, but it has really been a struggle.

All those reasons tell me we are probably doing the right thing.

But it does not make it any easier.

She is 13, and has lived a long life. There is a chance, since she is mostly pit bull, that she might not have lived had we not adopted her. I tell myself this, that we did a good thing and gave her a good life.

But it is still so hard to let go.

Yesterday while at work, our choir director sent us a recording of "I will rise." My choir will be singing it in a few weeks. I really like the song, more so the tune. But yesterday, for the first time, I really listened to the lyrics (our choir mostly sings "oos"; we have three soloists who will do most of the singing, so I really did not pay attention to the words). But this phrase made me burst into tears: "No more sorrow, no more pain."

I keep telling myself that Sadie will not be in pain in a few days. And that sort of helps.

But I am still so sad for us.

:-(