2008-12-26 ~ 7:35 a.m.

What Would Chewbacca Do?

I apologize for not responding to your guys' notes and stuff....Miss Witty Kitty and Miss Astralounge, I'm talking to you especially... But I've been pre-occupied...

I had to put Chewie, Rally Edition, to sleep last Saturday.

He was such a good boy, and I will miss him more than anything ever. The first couple of days were the WORST, but I had the best support system that I could have ever even wished for. Ex-Husband, Rally Edition and his puppies. Ex-husband, of course, it was his baby boy too, so it helps to have someone going through the same loss... but his puppies, those boys...just happy as can be to see you...and that always helps too...
The best part was when we came home from something (I was at their house for two days) and the boys greeted me first... Charlie was all, "What the FUCK?!?!" It was the best Christmas ever.

All my friends have been incredibly amazing and supportive. I thought I would have to call in for the full week after Chewie passed, but I made it ok. I only had to call in one day. (He passed on my day off, so that helped too.)

He had been vomiting, and I was going to take him to the vet when they opened in the morning. I had gone out that night, and since I did, I had Charlie check on Chewie. He had the wits about him to insist Chewie go to the 24 hour emergency clinic.

This poor dog was in CRITICAL dehydration status. Things had started to shut down that may not ever heal and everything. He had gotten an ultrasound, and there were cancerous cells here and there. The vomiting itself had been cause by a pancreatitis and not something he had eaten like I had suspected. It was his time to go. I think that's what makes this the easiest. Hell, if you were to research me, you would know that that little dog was on borrowed time anyway. He was only alive because I said to my husband, about 5 years ago, "you're not going to kill him, are you?" in response to if we were going to get him the operation to get bladder stones removed.

Oh, guess you don't have to research it now, I just told you what happened...

But even still....and then the second bladder operation...and then the spinal surgery.

No dog should ever cost anyone as much as he cost me....um... as much as he cost Charlie. That's so not the point...

The point is, Chewie and I were in love in the truest sense of the word. And we were friends to the end.

Speaking of the end, it happened exactly the way Charlie and I wanted it to, as much as you can want something like that. Everything happened quickly. There was no extensive suffering or pain. The doctor at the emergency animal hospital who ended up putting him to sleep was actually the vet we took him to the first time when he was having the bladder problems. She did those surgeries. She even took him home for a night when he got the second bladder surgery. (We were on vacation at the time, and she didn't want to leave him at the clinic. And then also handled the Chocolate Emergency of 2004 after she had gotten the job at the emergency clinic. So, Chewie knew her and was familiar with her.) Even she cried when she was putting him to sleep. An incredibly compassionate woman...probably to her own detriment, but we sure were glad she was there.

When we had first gotten there, I was filling out the paperwork. I was almost uncontrollably shaking, and I skipped the question that asked if we wanted CPR performed on him if his heart stopped... since I was shaking so much, Charlie took over the paperwork process for me, but he didn't realize I had skipped that god awful question, so the lady at the desk had to verbally ask us...and that's where I lost it... and then Charlie lost it as much as a man can lose it in front of other people, but managing to answer "no" better than I could.
That poor lady, "I'm sorry.. I have to ask everyone that question!!!"

Anyway, he died in my arms, the way I wanted it. Friends til the end. And that's certainly where he wanted to be. Before we started the process, Chewie did get in one last kiss. He had no energy, and he was already hopped up on pain killers, but everyone be damned if they thought he wasn't going to kiss mama at least one more time!

I miss him a bunch. The killer parts of the day right now is when I'm about to finish eating, and I think about how many bites I'm going to leave him, then quickly realize there's no one to share my food with. I have no escort to the kitchen, or anywhere in the house... and, ya know, even his last couple days when he wasn't eating anything and had so little energy, he still escorted me to the kitchen, and he would always at least meet up with me in the bathrooms.

He was my number 1 man. He still is my number 1 man. I think he still hangs out...or I wish it so. I can still hear him. I can still feel him. And, if you ever watched Pet Psychic, you know that animals aren't as weird as us humans about coming back to visit. They do it all the time.

I haven't gotten rid of his stuff back. For one, it hasn't even been a week yet. For two, when I was a little girl and stayed with this old couple while my mom was traipsing about Atlantic City, the old lady had always had this cat food dish out in honor of her long deceased cat (no food in it or anything weird like that...just the dish)....so that's the shit I'm used to. I emptied his dishes, and those are still out. I put his tigger toy in his blue's clues chair that he sat in, and his other toys are still where he left them.

I think I'll be ok.

Thank you in advance for your kind words...
Comment section does no twork, but the notes still do.

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