Goodbye Ferris

I posted this to Facebook the day it happened, but I wanted to be sure to post something over here too.

We said goodbye to Ferris last Saturday. She was 13 years old (I think. You never REALLY know with a rescue dog. I rescued her from a shelter in Auburn, Alabama in the Spring of 2002. We guessed that she was about 8 months old at the time..). She had been struggling with arthritis for years and it was getting worse and becoming more difficult to manage her pain. It's never easy to know when the time has come, but when I saw her Friday night after a long day of travel and an evening of playing with the other dogs and climbing the stairs to the decks around my parents' pool, I knew. When I went to feed her dinner and she slowly stood up, but then literally could not take a step forward... that was the moment I knew. I decided in that moment that she was in too much pain and it was time to take her. I, of course, tossed and turned all night. I knew it was the right decision, it just wasn't an easy one to make.

So, the next morning, we called my mom's vet and she went with me.  Saying goodbye is the shittiest part of pet ownership. I know there are people who just can't be in the room with their pet when they are euthanized, but I think it's really important. It's a very peaceful experience and they feel no pain. It's important to be there with them as they cross "The Rainbow Bridge". To literally be laying on them, heaving sobs as you listen to them exhale for the final time. To know that they knew you were there. It's important.

Ferris was such a great dog. Laid back and amazing with my kids. Great with our cats and friendly with anyone she met. She was the kind of dog you could use as a pillow when you were laying on the floor, watching TV.

Of course, she had quirks that could be annoying. She didn't like to go outside unless you were going out with her and she would turn into dead weight when you tried to get her to go out. She hated having her photo taken. I use to joke that she thought a photograph would steal her soul (as some cultures believe), but really I think she was afraid of the flash. She didn't like when it was raining, and especially storming (which is where I believe her fear of the camera flash came in). When she was more limber, you could find her sleeping in the bathtub during a storm.

She liked to sleep upside down, propped up against the hall wall (which has a Ferris-high layer of dirt running down it).

We still have not burried Cassie's ashes. I had planned to bury her at my mom's house and her ashes have been there for two years. Now, we will bury Ferris' ashes with Cassie's the next time I go home.

"Nite Nite, Ferris..."