Cheyenne Elise, 1994-2007
The awesomest Sheltie who ever lived died at about 11:45 Mountain Time this morning.
Mom says she went very peacefully. She was in pain all week, so they decided last night that they would take her in this morning. Mom says the vet was very kind and soothing -- Cheyenne didn't seem afraid or in any pain after she got the tranquilizer. She got some treats after the tranquilizer shot and then the vet gave her the injection. She relaxed and closed her eyes, and then she was gone.
I've known for a few months that this was coming. So why does it: 1) feel completely unreal, and I have to keep reminding myself that she's dead, for good, forever, I'm never, ever seeing her again; and 2) hurt so fucking much I wish I could chop off a toe so I could think about something else instead? At this rate I'm going to have to wear sunglasses to work for a year.
I've never lost a "real" pet before (not saying hamsters and rabbits aren't real -- but that just doesn't sting the way that losing someone you grew up with does), so I didn't realize until now just how acutely this sucks. Holy fuck did I make a mistake getting another one of these things. I hope I get hit by a bus before Cujo dies. Because I never wanna feel this bad again.
I really hope dogs go to heaven, or that there's a doggie heaven, or something. Cheyenne deserves to get to run around and play and not be in any pain anymore. And I hope to God I get to see her again.
Rest in peace, my sweet puppy.