Thirteen years ago I brought home a six month old puppy. She could sit and shake and roll over. I took my Cub Scouts with me to pick her up. She was my buddy from the get-go. She loved to move pipe with us, follow us on the horses and be in the house when we were home and snooze on the deck when we were gone. She was always glad to see me and would sit in whatever room I was in.
The last year she has had seizures, lost weight, and generally gone downhill. It has been hard for me to watch mu old friend suffer. She couldn't come with me on the ranch because she would get worn out too fast. I ask the kids if they wanted to know the day that I put her down so they could come say good-bye if it came to that and not one of them did. They just wanted to make the most of her life.
So, I called my dear friend who is our vet and ask her to meet me out to Charlie's to put her to sleep. I went out early and Chelsie ran around and had fun while I dug the hole. When Di got there I had already been crying most of the morning. Brandon Baker came out to help dig the hole and then he stayed while the vet administered the medicine. He even shed a few tears watching me fall apart.
The first shot just made her sleepy and the second was the final. She went very peacefully and I carried her to her spot and cried some more. I cried most of the rest of the day as I remembered Chelsie and the fun things that we had done together as a family.
Her favorite thing to do!
Chelsie's final resting spot. The cinder block serves as her headstone. It is a pretty place close to the barn overlooking the river. I swore I would not have another dog.
Never say never...
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