Heartbroken

Today my sweet dog Kleine went to wherever good dogs go when they die. She was happy, inspiring, and devoted. She was faithful and a joy.

I remember how she chose me when we went to the breeder's house. Her eyes were barely open, yet I could tell that when she looked at me, she saw me. She chose me. She was named before she was ever old enough to come home to live with us. I would visit her, so that we could bond. It was easy. She came at a time when my heart had just been broken after my dad passed away. She was the new life that would inspire me about good things and smiles.

She was always happy. She loved beanie babies....especially pigs. We'd search high and low for pig beanie babies just for her. She carried them like they were her babies. It was sweet, and yet another example of her kind heart.

In the last few years, she gained a lot of weight. I neglected her, a fact that will probably follow me for a very long time. I would talk to her and pet her, but she didn't get 100% of my devotion. We adopted Katie, and it didn't take 5 minutes before she knew Kleine was her enemy. In reality, Kleine couldn't care less if Katie got the attention or not. She just wanted to be close to everyone. When Katie attacked Kleine, it got bloody. That's when we began separating them. A huge separation.

I feel awful that I allowed this separation. This outsider came in to our home, and changed all the rules. I allowed that. This new dog had obviously been abused in some way, and had issues with being the center of attention. I felt bad. Kleine had been given a loving and perfect home, and Katie had not.

Making the decision to ease Kleine's tumor pain was not easy. In the big picture, Kleine not being here eases our concerns about moving, and how the hell we'd travel with two fighting dogs. I chose Katie in the end. I chose the abused dog. I chose the newcomer instead of the dog who chose me. While I know that it's humane to make such a decision when they cannot make it for themselves, I feel horrible, unloving, and a traitor.

She chose me, and let her go. She loved me always. And I let her go. Gone. Always. Fovever.

I fight the urge to hate Katie for the last two missed years with this happy forever gone dog. Yet I know it's crazy to blame her for the way her previous owners treated her or how she behaves.

My tears are many.....for myself.....my guilt....and for my Poopus.

Kleine memories: reaction to first immunizations and rushing to the vet; piggy picking; snuggling on cold mornings; road trips; runs on the beach; her first bath.....in the sink because she was so small; watching her run across the yard with her ears flapping in the wind; wearing her out on hikes; being there when she took her last breathe.