I'm writing this down as the disparate memories I have of her have become fuzzy. This is a testament to the power of blogging as I so desperately looked for stories of us from the past. I don't want to forget her sweetness, her sacrifice, her resilience, her personality, her love. I also want to remember my last time with her.
As snow accumulated outside, we were watching the whole night sky become light. Parents awoke and checked on us and mom got ready for work. Dad will be spending time with us as he too is unwell. My visit was primarily because of dad. I was not prepared for this. Despite attempts to feed her, she much preferred human food. And why the hell not I thought. She ate some meat, some rice, some cookies, and some raisin bread. Save the occasional coaxing by us for her to go potty outside, she was always by my side.
As dad watched TV - terrorism in Brussels, reactions to the Liberal government's budget, reality TV show in some frontier land - I spent time petting her, taking pictures of her, of us, so desperately trying to capture some last moments before she was gone. As our last half hour together approached, she seemed to want to get something from under the couch. An orange ball (with a UFA corporate logo). She wanted to play fetch. Although fetch has never been a strong suit of hers - she would pick it up and then refuses to let it go. That was the extent of our fetch - I'd throw it a mere foot from her as she struggled with mobility - and me trying to take it back. It's our thing from back in the day.
I try to recall her smell. It's a combination of Tres Semme conditioner, coconut shampoo, and dog musk. This was one of the last things we did the day before to prepare her for today. Mom wanted her to go with the dignity and respect as any human deserves. Although it was a struggle for her to stand in the tub, she leaned on me for support as suds and dirt and hair all got washed off of her. I cling ever so desperately to her smell. Her leash smelled of it for a while, but now as I bring it up to smell, it is gone and I'm sad all over again. I don't suppose I will ever get it back however fresh the memory is. She was a special dog. She was my special dog. I didn't realize that I'd have to let her go twice, once to my parents and now this. But I know that being here, coming home was needed. I needed to be here not for my own sake not for my closure, but for her. Thank you for your friendship, Sadie. You have taught me immensely about life and love.