After much discussion we came to the decision
that this week we would get our lovely
vet to come to put Lettice to sleep.
The weekend had been a roller-coaster
ride of emotions.
On Saturday evening, we were
planning to be out for a couple of hours.
Ted was singing in a choir at the next village,
the plan was for us to go separately in order
for me to pop home and check that she was alright.
The show was a sell-out...
Am-drams at its best..
Shepherds pie too!
My ticket was bought... the show must go on!
Lettice was sick and decidedly unhappy,
standing by me with head bowed.
'Take my ticket and hopefully someone
can enjoy the show, free!'
Cosy in her bed with one of my scarves
as a comfort blanket; I sat on the floor beside her
telling her, that she was free to go.
Wishing in my heart that
she would heed my words.
She settled and when Ted got back, we sat
talking through what we had always said,
that we would do the right thing
earlier rather than later.
At 3 a.m. when Ted went down to let her out
she was okay.
I got up at 6 a.m. and sitting quietly reading,
all seemed normal.
What wasn't normal was the great lump of
pain in my chest, which sat
like a physical presence.
All yesterday she seemed bright,
the small meals, little and often, she kept down.
Yesterday was a good day.
Which then of course begged the question...
'Were we doing it too early?'
We talked, we rationalised, we convinced
ourselves that the decision was sound.
This morning, she was sat in her bed looking bright and alert,
which only turned the screw even tighter.
I phoned the vets to ask if our vet
would call me back to discuss the
He was on holiday and wouldn't be back until next Monday!
'It was meant to be!'
A week's respite.
The trouble was, not long after the call,
she once again was sick and looking mis.
She is now sat quite content in her bed after
a soupçon of chicken.
She, as far as we can tell isn't in
any pain, if she was then naturally
we would act.
Obviously if she does go downhill, we will
get another vet to come.
And so it goes on.