Saturday morning after carefully examining Daisy, the vet agreed I should probably let her go.
He hugged me.
It was awkward.
He sensed my hesitation and gave me a second option: pain and anti-inflammatory medication. I asked for a few minutes to think about it and immediately called my brother. Putting my dog down was not something I wanted to do alone. Ben didn’t pick up, so I selfishly put off the inevitable and asked the vet to medicate her for pain.
I took Daisy home and within a few hours she was wagging her tail–something she hasn’t done in quite some time. My wise friend Susan said if I’m not ready, Daisy isn’t ready. I think she might be right.
I know I’ve got to let her go sooner or later, but it’s going to have to be later. I need more time with her, and my brother needs time to hold this over my head. I can hear him now, “No, Sarah I won’t fix your garbage disposal. I already saved your dog’s life this month. Isn’t that enough?”