The house is so quiet. TJ was taken to kennels by lunch time and by mid afternoon, I’d taken all my clothes out that I wanted packed. When I first started packing, I felt quite excited and looked forward to the trip.
Then, I opened a cupboard, here in my office, to get a small bag to put some extra things in, and saw Fayth’s brush. (I had brushed her the day before we took her to be put down, so that I had something of her after she was gone.) I made the mistake of picking it up, smelling it and feeling the fur. I just started crying again. I’m going back home, without her. It’s like a part of me is missing. Writing this, I am struggling not to cry again.
Marc and I spoke again about getting another dog. We’re still not certain what we are going to get (a puppy or adopt), but having a second (4-legged) baby is definitely happening. He likes having a pair of dogs, and so do I.
Everything is packed. We just have to somehow jam the suitcase closed. I’ve packed a notebook into the bag with Marc’s laptop (he’s taking that as hand luggage), so that I can keep up with my journal, just in case I don’t have access to a computer as much as I’d like. I’ll warn you now – if you come back and there’s a new entry, check the calendar for clickable dates as well as the “Recently Added” list. I will tweak the dates when adding entries, so that I don’t have humongous entries like the “Catching up” ones at the beginning.
I’m going to have to finish this up soon. It’s almost 23:00 already and we need to get up at 6:00, to make sure everything’s sorted and the house is clean. Marc’s father is picking us up and taking us to the airport at 8:00. Our flight only takes off at about 11:00, but we’ve got traffic to negotiate and Marc likes to make sure we’re there early, so that there are no problems.
I can’t help think that I’m forgetting something. It runs in the family – both my mother and my grandmother tend to worry about minor things. I’ll remember what it is, on the way to the airport tomorrow. And then it will be too late. In the meanwhile, it’s time to sleep.
It's my life ... 
I have four angels my self. That is all I can afford to feed, and legally house here in Houston, without a kennel permit! Otherwise I’d have many more. When I went to pick up my last two babies from the SPCA in August of last year, I met the most friendly young girl, a paraplegic in a wheel chair, about to be loaded into her van. Her guide dog seems to me, from viewing your pictures, could have passed for Fayth’s offspring. She too was a beautiful Golden. Her name is Scarlet. The young lady invited me to pet her dog if I wanted to. I of course did. She asked me if I was able to adopt a dog today. I said yes dear, I adopted two very spirited Lab pups. A brother and sister paired in the same cage – how would I ever forgive myself for separating the two. They are my sunshine. They are getting quite big now. They both sleep with me in my queen size bed. If I get uncomfortable and feel crowded, and decide to leave them and move to the spare room to get some sleep, they are both in that bed before I even get there. I suppose I’ll get a king size.
I feel your pain with putting Fayth down. I don’t know how one goes through that. God knows I’ll have to one day do that with my two older kids. You are a responsible loving dog owner that didn’t allow her to suffer.
I admire you. I will send you a poem I have from an unknown author. A poem that has helped ease the pain for many of my friends who have been through this. All the best in finding your new pack member. He/she will be a very lucky dog.
A Dog’s Plea
Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me. Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear. Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.
And, my friend, when I am very old and I no longer enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any fun. Please see that my trusting life is taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing that my fate was always safest in your hands.
good good stuff @:
A Dog’s Plea