Chloe

Me and the Beautiful Dawta took Chloe up to the vet and did what we had to do. I thought it kinda interesting that the vets office uses this pretty, flowerdy paper to print out the euthanization certificates. Usually, at the vets, Chloe would try to get up and get off the table, but, not today. Her back legs had pretty much given out on her. They asked if I wanted to be in there when they did it and I said I didn't think so and asked them if that made me a bad dog owner and they said "Absolutely not." Some want to stay and some don't.

The Dawta and I both noticed how Chloe's eyes seemed to be teary when we were telling her goodbye. Maybe it was just our imaginations. Our eyes were full and the hearts heavy.

I went outside and waited and I remembered the time I had brought Chloe to that same vet about 12 years ago to be boarded while we went on a trip. Chloe HATED leashes. Scared to death of them and wanted no part of one. She jumped out of my arms and took off running down the parking lot and I had to run like a madwoman to catch her before she got out into West Main/Gallatin Rd. traffic.

We brought her back to the house and our wonderful neighbor, Matthew, a big, sturdy guy, dug a good hole for us and me and the kids buried her. Each kid wanted to help cover the dirt. It was like they had to. That dog had been here longer than any of them and has been with them every single day of their lives.

Chloe went through a lot of life with us....births, a divorce, greeting each kid when they came home from their first day of school, a lot of nights I was alone with Mr. Smiff on the road, she was right there, being a good watch dog, always sleeping right under my head, if I got up, she got up, she got up, even if it was just to the bathroom. Gosh, Chloe even knew my dad, who has been dead nearly 15 years.

#2 asked me if Chloe was in Heaven. I told him I don't know for sure, but, I feel that God has a special place for special pets. He has to. I hope so. Chloe is deserving of whatever special place there is for dogs when they die. She was everything a good pet should be: loving, forgiving, protective and a faithful little friend. There were times she drove me nuts because she had a nervous/insecure side to her, but, I'm glad I saw that ad in the paper that day in 1991 and that I brought her home, even though I was not sure what Mr. Smiff would say. She was so tiny, she fit into my hand and I hid her behind my back before I broke the news to Mr. Smiff that it was a girl.

Everyday when we feed the dogs, there's this routine of Chloe being in charge of the food. The other dogs eat, pretty much when she said so. This morning, when she wouldn't eat, they ate theirs and I noticed after I got back and done with everything, they had not touched her food. Normally, it's a contest. Amazing how instinctive dogs are. Maybe they're hoping she'll be back later to eat. Who knows.

**Once again the wonderful Blogger is being contrary and won't let me put a picture up. Look at the Flickr.