13 years of love

These are our dogs.

Shelley is 13 years old. We got her for Stephen's 15th Birthday when she was about 2, and he'll be 26 this year. We went down to the Humane Society, and looked at a bunch of dogs. She picked us. Her owners had moved and couldn't take her with them. She wanted to come home with us, so she did.

Ruthie is around the same age. TJ spotted her wandering up beside Scottsville Road one day. He was concerned, but knew Mom would kill him for bringing home a dog. The next day, he spotted the scrawny puppy again, this time with Mom. They called to her; she came. That was between 8 and 10 years ago. When Dad saw her, we knew we were going to keep her.

They are old.

Shelley has arthritis. She has become incontinent, and can't hold her bladder while she sleeps. And she won't tell us she needs to go out like she used to (it drove us nuts, but not as much as cleaning up pee off the floor every day). And she has these coughing-type fits. I don't know why, but some things I've read say that it could be early signs of heart or lung disease.

Ruthie is blind. Or at least mostly there. She won't walk through the middle of a room, or the middle of the back yard, because she doesn't know what's out there. She might bump into something. And when Mom took her on a walk, she would run into the curbs on the side of the street. She couldn't see them. She runs into tables and chairs. And she can't be left alone in the house because she might pee on something. If she goes into the study, she's likely to pee on the carpet. We don't let her upstairs, even if she could climb them, because she would just pee up there too.

We can't afford to take care of them.

We love them dearly.

They are old, and will begin to suffer severely soon.

We can't watch them suffer.

We don't want them to suffer.

We can't burden someone else with their care.

One day this week, they will go to sleep and not wake up.

They won't feel a thing.

We'll be there with them when they go.

We'll love them till the end.

We'll remember them fondly.

We are not monsters.