Littlefoot's last day

When Littlefoot collapsed Friday night and I had called the vet to schedule the appointment, it took a while to get him up and outside for a piddle, then he came back in and collapsed again. He ate a little bit of his canned food, and a chewable pain pill, then he ate a bit of bacon. Throughout the night, I petted him every time I walked by, told him what a good, sweet boy he was, and a couple of times I put Little Miss outside so I could sit on the floor and hold Littlefoot and tell him how much I loved him.

I talked to Dad, Kogi and Mallie, and managed not to cry.

Saturday morning, Littlefoot woke me at seven by coughing, which he'd been doing all week (the main reason I took him in on Thursday). I got up, put him outside and fed Little Miss, then put her outside. Littlefoot wasn't interested even in his canned food, but he ate the pain pill. I had my morning coffee in my Littlefoot mug that Kogi made for me.
All morning, Littlefoot tried to follow me around, coughing every time he did, and I kept my own movements to a minimum.

At eleven, I put Little Miss in the basement and had to lift Littlefoot into the car. He wasn't interested in looking out the window at all for the ride to the vet's, and both of those things told me I'd made the right decision.

When we arrived, I got hugs from both receptionists, and Littlefoot got pats, and then the tech took us downstairs to the presurgery room. We had about ten minutes alone, and then the tech came back with Dr. Mark, and they lifted him onto the prep table. I stood by Littlefoot's head with my arms around him, his head resting in the crook of my right arm, and I stroked his back and told him I loved him as Dr. Mark shaved a strip of fur from his leg and slid in the needle.

It wasn't long before my eternal puppy was gone. Mark and Carlee left me alone with him, and I cried into his fur, kissed the top of his head and rubbed his velvet-soft ears for the last time, and said goodbye.

I will miss you so much, little guy.