Muffin (part III)

 

Monday morning I called Dr. Mosher because Muffin wasn’t taking treats, and she loved treats.  He told me everyone was worried about Muffin.  He told me to water down her canned food with hot water and feed her through a syringe.  She did not fight me when I tried at first but towards the end she did.  

Two weeks before Mom died, she had to be fed through a syringe into her feeding tube.  I did not think of this parallel until Jamie mentioned it.  Mom and Muffin had to depend on someone else to care for them and make decisions for them.

I took Muffin outside again to walk around.  I showed her the cute little purple flowers in Dad’s backyard and took a few pictures of her with my cell phone (wish I still had that photo).  Dad came out with his camera and took some pictures for me as well.  He mentioned I should bury her at his house instead of my house because we were getting ready to move, and that he would take her to put her asleep.  I did not want to hear what he was saying, so I stuck my arm out and waved it at him so he would stop.  He said he was there for me and would help out in anyway.  I did not want anyone to tell me what they thought I should do.  I did not want Paul to even say it was time to put her to sleep. 

We called a vet on St. Simons, and they said they could do blood work and find out the results in about fifteen minutes.  I told the kids I was taking her to the vet to check her liver and see how she was doing.  I asked them if they wanted to come tell her goodbye at the vet if we needed to put her to sleep.  They both wanted to come.  Ashton said he wanted her to be buried in Athens.  We had to do what was best for Muffin.

While we waited at the vet, I took her outside to walk around; I was preparing myself.  I told her all the things I wanted to tell her, something I didn’t get to do with Mom.  I told her how she had been a great dog, and a long list of other things.  I told her I was sorry for spanking her when she peed in the house.  I was holding her as I was telling her all these things.  Usually she was looking off in the distance.  Every once in a while she would look at me.  I told her, “I hope I see you in Heaven.”  When I said, “Heaven,” she looked at me and locked her eyes with mine.  I hate how man’s sin is the reason Muffin has to die.  It is not fair.  It makes me not like sin all the more.  Mom’s card she left for us was titled “SEE YOU IN HEAVEN.”