I got up around 5 am and as soon as I had given Snowy all his meds, I carried him out to the porch swing and held him close to my chest for about thirty minutes as together we shared a lovely, peaceful rising of the dawn.
Because of the heavier meds, for one of the first days in a long time, his whole body didn’t have tremors running through it from the early morning pain he usually experienced. He was alert and happy and sniffing the air with the kind of studied intensity that a learned scholar reserves for his most serious of tomes.
It was thirty minutes of my life that I will never, ever forget–watching Snowy’s last day arrive as he lay serenely in my arms. It felt as though the whole world was made up of just him and me and the dawn existed for our senses, our enjoyment alone. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking start to his final morning.
As the day wore on, Sarah and I decided it would be special to drive to the school one more time with him. She came downstairs wearing her (empty) back pack and we both put on our excited voices saying, “Want to take Sister to school?” the way we have every school morning since time immemorial.
And like every school morning since time immemorial, Snowy flung himself into a frenzy of joy at the sound of our voices and ran circles around Sarah until she picked him up and carried him out to the van.
He settled himself contentedly into his usual spot . . .
. . . and we drove the two miles to Manteo High School.
When we arrived, Snowy gazed studiously out the window, ready as ever to shoot Doggy Laser Warning Beams at any boys in the vicinity who might happen to cast a stray glance in Sarah’s direction.
But then he finally turned around and said, “Hey, Mom. There are hardly any people here! And Sarah isn’t getting out. What’s going on?”
To further add to his befuddled discomfiture, we also took a quick trip past Sarah’s old middle school where he had faithfully ferried her during eighth grade. Once again, no students. No teachers.
Just Snowy and Sarah, listening to old, precious memories.
On the way home, I told Sarah to put her window down so that Snowy could stick his head out the window. Turns out that this particular Official Doggy Act had been on his Bucket List for quite a while and he had a very large time letting the wind’s fingers ruffle his fur. I could see the doggy smile all the way across the van where I was sitting.
(By the way, his fur actually whipped around quite a bit more when we were out on the main road; I took this picture on our side road going about 5 miles an hour since I was steering and snapping at the same time.)
Snowy continued to spend the morning feasting on sumptuous chunks of watermelon and bits of grilled chicken; he also got all the treats he wanted. He was a happy, spoiled little guy.
Sarah took him upstairs for their last stint at the computer together. Since we got Snowy when she was just four years old, the two of them have logged a lot of time together.
He then rode the very accommodating elevator back down to the first floor. . .
. . . where mama waited.
He had been pretty energetic and frisky all morning, but when I picked him up to hold him close, he quieted down immediately, and his whole body just collapsed into one large “Ahhhhhhh . . . “
After about twenty minutes, he started stirring a little and we moved into the living room to wait on the vet. Some of his old sassiness came back as he looked happily around the living room at some of his favorite people all gathered in one place.
He smiled and Sarah cried.
She picked him up for another kiss. . .
. . . and another hug.
He finally figured enough kissin’ and cryin’ had been done, and settled his little head into the curve of the chair for a wee snooze.
He rested quietly there until the vet and her nurse arrived and then he jumped up to form his own personal welcoming committee. We were so pleased to see her sit down on the floor with Snowy and pet him and play with him for a while. She told us she understood that it is especially hard to put a dog to sleep who seems to be feeling so well at the moment but fully agreed that the respite was temporary and we had definitely reached the end of the road, treatment-wise.
The vet explained to us what the process would be: first an injection in his hip to sedate him, followed about five minutes later with the medicine that would stop his heart.
Sarah had decided ahead of time that she didn’t want to be there for that process so we handed Snowy to her one final time to say her good byes. She began to cry, and I hugged her and cried with her before being joined by Steve who came over and put his arms around the three of us, with Snowy safe and secure in the center of the circle.
Sarah took a final look back at her beloved pet, friend, and cancer nurse and walked slowly up the stairs to her room, leaving behind a precious part of her childhood.
The vet came back to the couch and gave Snowy the first injection and it was just a matter of seconds before his breathing changed and he went limp in my arms. She said that she and the nurse would go out to the front porch for a few minutes to give us some privacy before the final injection.
And so I sat and held my faithful friend in his special blanket one last time. I thanked him for the years of joy his little life had give us–healing, therapeutic, undiluted, unselfish, unstinting, pure, whole-hearted, tail wagging, doggy joy.
And then I said good-bye.
what a beautiful way to get to say goodbye to your precious Snowy!!! I am crying so much and the pain feels so real for me. I can only imagine what all of you are going through. Rest in Peace sweet Snowy. You are loved by so many
Oh Becky…yours and Sarah’s face say it all.
Thank you for sharing this process with us. even though i know he is gone, im still crying like a baby to read this. hard to think someone or somepet that i never met in person could tug at my heart stings so. will be thinking of you guys daily.
Beautiful words of love.
To Steve, Becky, Sarah & Nathan – Your Snowy shared so many memories with you – and you have shared so many of your memories with us…. I feel like Snowy is part of our life too! Snowy will always be near and dear to you … even two years later after our beloved Border Collie went to the Rainbow Bridge … I still think of her daily and can see her smile, smell her fur and hear her bark. She is never far from my heart … I know Snowy will never be far from yours.
With much love and many prayers.
When we put our lab down a year ago our vet told my kids that what we were doing was a final gift of love to her. That brought such peace to my kids. Sorry for your loss.
Just weeping at my desk. I will miss Snowy and I never met him. Thank you for sharing him with us.
Oh Beckye…. I am just reading about Snowy’s death. So sorry about your loss….. I am sending cyber Hugs to each of you.
Here I am at work, squalling like a baby. SO sad about your loss. We had to do the same to our yellow lab Moon in 2006 and our hearts just broke. He too was one of those lifetime companions – a special gift from God. It took a long time, but now I can remember him with pure joy 99% of the time – except when I read a post like yours above. Ya’ll are in our prayers.
Snowy was one lucky dog. Blessings to all of you in the quiet days ahead.
I am so sorry. I know what you are going through. We lost our beloved dog in February. Yes, they are just a dog…but they become part of your family and are truly missed. God bless!
Cindy in Tennessee
Oh so hard to type through the tears. My thoughts and prayers are with you all. Rest peacefully Snowy. You were so loved.
Oh, Snowy….what love you have known.
Becky I’m with Elizabeth, I sit at here work crying like Snowy were my own. As an animal lover and someone who has been through just what all of you are going through now with my first maltese baby, Lacy,my heart breaks for you guys. Love to you all.
I am so sorry your family is going through this. I now have to explain to my girls why I am crying in my cereal :). That was very well written and what a blessing to find a vet that is so compassionate and willing to come to your home. I have said a prayer for God to give you many happy memories of your littlest family member that will bring you and your family smiles for years to come.
I remember my first dog, that I got when I was 4… his name was pepper and he died 2 weeks before I went off to college… it was almost as if he knew that he had done his job, and been my best doggy friend ever until I grew up! I hate that Snowy did not make it until Sarah went to college, but I hope that she will be able to remember the good memories and not the heartache very soon!! I hope that in the days to come that you all can remember the joys and happiness more so than the sadness at the end. Pets are truly a part of the family and it is so difficult to lose them… thoughts and prayers are withe you!!
I might have to stop reading your blog (NEVER)
This is the third day in a row that I have cried like a baby at my workstation.
What a beautiful tribute to your friend.
RIP Snowy
That is so heart breaking about Snowy. brought back so many memories of when I had to put our baby to sleep after 15 1/2 years. Tears in my eyes as I feel what you are going through.
He is peaceful now.
ooooooooh
too many tears here to say anything more
I haven’t been to the blog in a few days so my heart just fell when I signed on and saw this post. I’m so sorry, Becky, and I send my condolences to the whole family.
Snowy was very, very loved, and he had a wonderful life, and it’s so very obvious just by reading this post that he was a beloved companion and friend.
When I had to put my dear cat to sleep, my mother told me, “he’s been a very good friend to you, and this is the last gift of love you can give him: the mercy and caring to let him go peacefully and painlessly when it’s time, even if it’s not time for *you*.” I think I can speak for a lot of us when I say that there’s NEVER a time when we want to say goodbye, and that if we had our way, our dear cats and dogs would live forever with us, so making that decision, and staying with them to let them know they’re loved, is beyond difficult.
You gave Snowy that last gift. His last day–filled with so many things that gave him joy–was beautiful. Best wishes to all of you, and lots of sympathy.
Well if I wasnt crying before, I am now…so…sorry…I dont even know what to say, thinking of you all.
So sad for all of you! We as “Smithellaneous” followers are going to miss him! You can take comfort in knowing that you did the very best that you could for him.
I cried so hard at this post.
Thanks for sharing the reality of being living creatures on this earth, both good, bad, ugly and beautiful. Sometimes all mixed into one.
Ok, I should not have read that… you are in my prayers.
It was really hard to see you all looking so sad. I know this was a devastating day for all of you. What a wonderful last day you gave to little Snowy. He looked so happy and content. I hope that soon you’ll be able to remember fun times with your precious boy without tears and heartache. In the meantime, allow yourselves the time to grieve, and know that we are all grieving right along with you. Hugs to you all.
My prayers remain with you and your family. It’s amazing how these wonderful small creatures leave such large holes in our hearts and lives when they leave us.
I thought my tears had stopped but, Becky, they flowed through this entire posting from you. I feel such a loss and Snowy was not mine. Praying for all of you still.
I am so, so sorry. This is one of those hurts that never quite heals, because it is the hurt of the love and loss of unconditional love and non judgement. You did the right thing, although it doesn’t make the hurt less. He knew how much he was loved. How glorious the world would be if everyone could know such love. Good boy, Snowy, good boy.
Thank you for sharing your beloved little Snowy. Tears were flowing as I read your post. Thinking of you – may the memories of sweet Snowy bring you comfort in the days to come.
I am weeping. What a precious last day… that little guy knew up until the very end how very, very much he was loved. Hardest thing in the world for you to do, and yet the greatest possible gift that you could give him. Run, Snowy… run….
Snowy was one blessed little puppy! Sending cyber hugs your way. Praying for you all today … and everyday. Snowy will never be forgotten. 🙂
one of the most precious posts I have ever been honored to read. Bless your sweet hearts and may the Great Comforter hold you in His arms.
He went from the loving arms of his family here on earth to the loving arms of God. You will have him back.
Ohhhhhh beckyyyyyy, my heart is so broken for you all..I can’t stop crying..thank you for sharing your beloved boy with us…sending much love and hugs xoxoxo
Thank you for sharing your story about snowy. I am crying as if he were my dog. I know your sadness and pain. It will get easier with time. I will be thinking about you guys.
So heartbreaking, yet loving and peaceful. Hugs to all.
I am so lost for words, Becky! Thank you for sharing such personal, and raw feelings with all of us. I just can’t help but cry! I have cried many SO, SO, SO many tears this week over Snowy. Now all my tears are for all of you, my favorite Smith Family! How’s Nathan (and Megan) doing? This had to be difficult w/them being so far away! Snowy is out of pain, but yours is just beginning. Much love (many tears and tissue boxes), Jodi
I don’t think I have ever seen pictures of Sarah looking so sad and dejected 🙁
Such a difficult thing to do, but the right thing, heartbreaking as it is… I am so sad for you all!!! xo
Still hard to believe he is gone.
Steve