Well, I'm home - in my pajamas, having just indulged in my idea of total comfort food (DH made me a grilled cheese sandwich), and I'm just going through some things here in the home office. Today was a long day ... a good day ... but so draining. The service was lovely; I was surprised at how many attended, especially since Grannie and Grandaddy have outlived many, if not most, of the friends in their circle - still, the chapel was full. The flowers were beautiful and the photos displayed of her at the front were so precious. My favorites were her high school graduation photo (today I wore the little gold bracelet she had received from her parents on graduating in 1934 that she wore in the photo - she was the first in her family to receive her diploma - as well as her jingly charm bracelet), and a portrait taken perhaps a year or two later in which she looked like a silver screen star. She was so beautiful. Of course, I always just knew her as "my Grannie", so it's fascinating for me to consider what her life must have been like as a young woman. It was sweet today to hear stories of what she was once like. How, for instance, she showed herself to be a thoughtful sister when she got up early one Sunday morning before church and polished her sister's shoes, so their mama wouldn't find out that the sister had been out dancing the night before. She looked out for others, always. It was good to see family and friends, both old and new. It was a delight to hold my 8-month old second cousin and watch his brown eyes dance as he took in all the activity around him. It was bittersweet to hold the hand of my Grandaddy. I know it won't be too long before we're repeating this whole process for him. ::sigh:: The readings and sharing of memories during the service, both my own and the parts of other family members, went beautifully. Of course we were emotional. And it was ok. It was an emotional time, so perfectly fine. I think Grannie would have been pleased. I hope that somehow, somewhere, she was able to know that we were there today, honoring her life. Again, I cannot thank you all enough for the outpouring of love and support that you've given me here. It means more to me than I can possibly even express. You are very special people indeed.

Thanks to everyone. We just got back from the vet's office, where Rudy died peacefully, surrounded by his family. I am heartbroken and already miss him desperately, but I am sure I did the right thing. Thanks for all the support.

Thank you again so much. I cried long and hard this morning after everyone else left for school and work. The house is dreadfully quiet. Last night I woke up at 4:30 a.m. because I'm so used to having to get Casey up to go to the bathroom at around that time. It will be a while before I can sleep through the night again, I'm sure. Annz, what you said has helped me immeasurably to know I did the right thing. I was really thrown for a loop when the vet began discussing treating her and I've been plagued with guilt that I didn't think harder about giving it a try. I must have known in my heart that she was too far gone and that it was inevitable that the end was near either way. But hearing your words comforted me so much. My sister (the only other person I know personally who is as much a bonafide animal-crazy person as I am) told me essentially the same thing. She owns a pet-sitting business and they have had anywhere from 4-7 pets of their own (they, too, have had to put a couple of their pets to sleep during the past couple of years). She told me that renal failure is extremely serious and that Casey was so fortunate to have lasted as long as she did. It helps assure me that I did what was best for my girl. You're all right, though -- it really does just hurt like crazy. It almost takes my breath away at times. I'm grateful that I've been able to spill my heart out here, as I really have no one else who quite understands my grief, other than my sweet sister. In an odd way, I feel like the experience is giving me something, though. I hope this doesn't sound strange, but I've been grappling with feelings of guilt for all the things I didn't do for Casey (should have cleaned her ears and teeth more often, should have gotten her groomed more often, should have taken better care of her, should have walked her more, etc.) I suppose it's all a part of the grief, but it's pointed out to me not to take others for granted. There are a lot of things in my family life and even with friends, etc. that I realize I've been taking for granted, being "too busy" is really the excuse. I'm oddly comforted by the notion that I have the opportunity to stop taking these relationships for granted and really show them how much I care. I don't want to have "regrets" where anyone else is concerned. I don't mean any of this to sound strange. I know Casey had a good life and she absolutely knew she was loved. I just feel like maybe her legacy is to remind me how much I love not only her, but so many others in my life. I'll get through this one day at a time.

I have never been to this forum before, I usually hang out in the garden areas but I needed to get some relief this morning. This post has helped me just to break down and let all that 'strength' and pain go. I do not wish to take away from the purpose of this thread but I would like to share my story with someone. It has been about a month or a little more since we lost Fred; Fred was a beagle that we adopted from a couple who left him in a crate almost 24/7; he was about 2 years old when he was sent to us.... that was 15 years ago. In that time , I have lost my two shepherd mix girls at 15 and 14 years old.... I have taken in three more pups as they passed my way in need... but Fred was special. Independent, never needing attention and so appreciative when he got it. About 6 months ago , he went blind and my husband thought it was best to help him cross over, I disagreed. I told him that if that were the case, I would know but Fred seemed to be adjusting well and he did...... most times, you could not tell he was blind to watch him. Physically , he was still pretty active, his teeth were getting pretty bad but the vet said none were in need of removal YET.... Long story short, I made the decision that the time had truly come about a month ago because it seemed that everything that moved began to startle him and he seemed to be in constant fear and that was not the purpose of adopting him; it was to give him love, freedom and a carefree life......he had that. That morning, I told him how much I loved him and we spent an hour or more just cuddling...I explained that I was ready to let him go and I knew he was ready ..... I had contacted my vet and we were to be there at 3 pm; at 1 pm, I went to get him and spend just a few more special moments and I found him in his bed; he had taken the journey on his own after receiving my permission to give up..... he now sleeps under a newly planted magnolia (in his honor) with a beautiful marble head stone that has his picture on it....and I spend some very nice quiet times there just as we did together for so many years..... Thank you all for letting me share this here and please know that your thread has helped me get through yet another day without Fred...