I didn’t sleep much last night. Every time Sabine woke up and rustled around, I also woke up to make sure she was getting what she needed — water, bathroom, whatever. She and I sat in her favorite chair for half the night, until Sabine decided she wanted to stumble up the stairs on her own. She went towards the bathroom, her safe place. My gut felt like it had been punched…I knew what this meant.
I rearranged Camp Sabine upstairs so that I could be with her. Sometime during the night, she came to me and we cuddled together. I told her a million times I loved her, and held her as close as I could to keep her warm.
This morning, we watched a beautiful sunrise together. It’s always the simplest of things that I remember doing with Sabine — sitting on our deck in San Francisco, on the rare days when it was too hot and stuffy to be indoors. We’d sit side-by-side and watch the breeze blow the leaves on the trees. I would put my arm around her back, and she would lean her head into me. We could sit like that for hours. Similarly, the first time it snowed — and the first time Sabine had ever seen snow — I held her up to the window and walked her back and forth. She was transfixed by the white snowflakes dropping down. And today, a sunrise. A simple pleasure with my Sabine.
With an unusual burst of energy, Sabine got up and walked around, making her way to her most favorite place — our bedroom. She stood at the corner, staring in, as if guided by muscle memory. I administered her fluids and gave her some medication. Sabine went to Sly’s clothes and sat down for a while to rest, and then made her way back to the bathroom.I made up her bed as comfortable as I could, putting all her friends around her. I don’t think I have much time left with her now, and my heart is breaking. Right now, I just pray she goes peacefully. She deserves that at the very least. I’ll be right beside her, holding her paw, until the very end.