When I wrote my last blog about the 7 year trauma of having my first fur-baby Calli put to sleep, I never realised at the time how pertinent the subject would be.
Today I have sad news to share…
On Wednesday last week our earth-angel Skye unexpectedly left us for Rainbow Bridge.
In September she was diagnosed with a grade 3 mast cell tumour after surgery to remove a number of lumps.
She was perfectly fine in herself on Weds morning and was still full of life and joy, and was scheduled for tests and treatment at a specialist vet in Somerset next week to discuss possible treatment options.
Sadly at lunchtime she quickly became unwell and seemed very weak. We immediately rushed her to the vet and they found that she had a large amount of blood in her abdomen, and a burst spleen was the highly probable cause which indicated that the tumour was much more aggressive and had spread further than we first thought or hoped.
We were in complete shock.
I knew that I had to understand and respect her wishes, but I was in no fit state to attempt a communication with her myself as you need to be calm and grounded, so I reached out to my peers and my friend Piedad responded and offered to communicate with Skye for me.
Piedad confirmed that Skye was not in pain but was ready to transition, and that she absolutely did not want to be put through any long drawn out surgeries or treatments, so we respected her wishes.
We said our goodbyes and Skye went to sleep in our arms, with her sister Calli waiting for her to give her her wings.
Our hearts were broken, but thanks to animal communication, this time we are reassured that she WAS ready to transition, that we DID make the right decision, and there wasn’t anything more we could do for her other than be with her until she left her body.
Last week, when I said ‘Ask your dog’, I really hadn’t anticipated that this advice would apply so strongly to me, but here’s the thing…
Although we are grieving the loss of our beautiful girl, we aren’t wracked by guilt, or questions, or fears of having done the wrong thing. Our sadness is one of pure loss, and somehow it makes it a little less awful to bear, although the tears still flow freely.
I can’t tell you how grateful I am to Piedad for being there for me to help me understand Skye’s final wishes.
If ever you find yourself needing to know what your dog wants, you know you can turn to me for help.