No, we didn’t lose her. She didn’t just wander off down a side road and never come back home. Our short haired, always cold, snuggling min-pin was reaching the end of her breed life expectancy. At almost 13, she was just about 91 in human age terms and not doing well.
Millie, our sleek black with brown markings little lady had contracted Lyme, displayed a rather large benign tumor attached to her throat, was struggling with lameness, and probably had Cushings which we self diagnosed as a plausible reason for her excessive water intake and waking me up at 5 am every morning for her breakfast.
Sleeping almost constantly, I mean more than the normal 18 hours a day, and sometimes wandering around in a daze made it apparent the time was nearing for a serious conversation about putting her down. We were pretty sure Millie was having mini-strokes in her sleep and life just wasn’t going well for her.
I think we love our pets unconditionally as they seem to love us. Having your dog reach out with a paw, rolling over for a belly rub, playing or going on those crazy blitzes – running around in those wild circles and getting out of breath—well it’s just hard to have to face Millie not being here anymore.
With very heavy hearts, we drove out to the vet’s office. Our fee paid, our goodbyes tearfully whispered, off Millie went. We buried her in the back yard and decided we just can’t bury one more close family friend with 4 legs.