My wife's dog Jessie died last night. She was an old girl, 15 years is old for a German Shepherd. The last time we took her to the vet, she told us that Jess had a tumor in her guts and one day it would just burst and that would be it. No mess, no fuss, no pain. Looks like that day has finally come.
This afternoon we'll take her out to my sister's property and bury her in the growing pet cemetary down near the gate to the river. I hope the ground isn't too hard because she's a big dog.
I have a nagging feeling that I let her down though. Last night, when I was taking my daughter to the loo before I went to bed, I heard a bang against the wall. I figured that Jess had fallen over, which she often did due to the middle ear disease she had that affected her balance. I thought I'd go out and check on her but by the time I'd dealt with my daughter, I'd forgotten and just went to bed. I don't know if she spent what was left of her life lying wedged between her bed and the wall unable to get up, or if she slid off the bed and onto the floor as she died. I guess I'll never know.
RIP Jess.