Sad News - Unhappy feelings

On Tuesday, February 2nd, my dog was put to sleep. She meant a lot to me, and I don't think it was her time.

I don't know who reads this blog, if anyone, so I'm going to vent here. If I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry, but I'm pretty emotional about it.

Uta just turned 15 in October 2009, and she was old, yes...but was it her time? Absolutely not.

This video was taken just about 45 minutes before she was taken to the vet. Sure she was old, but she still liked to go out and wander around, walking with the cat, smelling all the things, etc. Boots used to go with us on our walks....no matter how short or long they were.

I wasn't allowed to go with Uta to the vet. I had to say goodbye to my dog (technically my Moms dog, but Uta and I knew better) before they left. Mom said "I can't deal with YOU AND Uta AND me in the room!" What a load. I felt like I had let Uta down by not being there to let her know I wasn't abandoning her.

Mom and Louise thought it was time to put Uta down because she had started going to the bathroom in the house. Let me set the record straight on this. Uta needed to go outside more often than they were letting her. The dog that Mom got to replace her last dog, Jessie, doesn't go as often as a normal dog - because she doesn't drink much water - so logically, neither should Uta, right?

So, whenever they DID let Uta out, they automatically assumed that 2 minutes was fine, and then let her back in. This dog, that had been with them for 15 years and never had problems before - actually used to HOLD IT for HOURS AND HOURS when they would go away for the day - needed to go more frequently because she was getting O L D E R!!!!! I mean, COME ON!!!

She wouldn't start peeing when she walked, she wouldn't go poo when she got up, there were no signs of her LOSING control of her bowls, just needing to go more often!!!! THAT'S BLOODY IT!!!!

It was becoming too much for them to handle....taking her outside, making sure she went....etc. What my routine would be; put her on her leash, take her out the back door, down the driveway, let her go on the FRONT lawn, let her smell around a bit, WALK around a bit, and she'd probably poop at that point, too!

They said it was painful for them to watch her get older, but it was even more painful for me to see her getting neglected. There, I said it. I thought my dog was not getting the attention she deserved, but the only thing I could do was to hang out at their house all day (which got to be old) and spend time with the dog. I couldn't have dogs at my apartment, and the new place I moved into has about 15 steep stairs to go up, so she wouldn't have been able to go there.

They wouldn't let me take her anywhere anymore anyway. I was getting shut out of her life and it was really bothering me. Then, come Monday, I stopped by like I usually do and Mom said matter-of-factly, " Uta's going to the vet tomorrow" and I knew exactly what she was talking about. It was pointless to argue anymore. They weren't going to listen to me.

On Tuesday, I dressed all in black, wore black nail polish, black eye makeup, and went to spend the morning with my dog....taking pictures and getting as many videos of her that I could so I could get a tribute made of her. The video above is our last walk.

This last Friday, February 12, I went to pick up her ashes at the vet. The woman who handed over the bag was the one that I had spoken with a week before Utas "appointment". I had taken Uta in to get her nails clipped - something I did, without asking, which caused an argument between my mom and I because I should've ASKED - and I asked this person at the vet if this looked like a dog that needed to be destroyed.

She said no.

Uta was as healthy as a 15 year old dog could be with arthritis....but she had medication for that.

While I was waiting for the receptionist to become available to get the ashes, I sat watching the comings and goings of the animals at the vet. A woman had just come from the back with her dog and said, "I'm going to put her in the car and come back to pay the bill." Her dog was an old Poodle-Schnauzer mix, head about thigh high. This dog was having an incredibly hard time walking, but she still had her dog. I felt like I had been robbed of time with Uta.

When she handed over the bag of Uta, she said, "I'm so sorry." All I could do was say, "It's Ok."

I'm going to use some of the ashes and go to the glass blowing place here in town and make an Uta Float. It's pretty expensive, but I need to have my dog with me...because she was by best friend...and I miss being with my fuzzy buddy.

And no. I didn't ask for permission for the ashes. I'm just going to take some.

In a side note; One main reason I'm so angry about not being able to go with Uta to the vets is because this is the third major death in my life and I wasn't able to be there for them. The first was Max, my first love (died of Hodgkins disease); the second was my Grandma Ruth, and I was forced to work instead of making the trip to see her; and the last was Uta.

I'm tired of people telling me I can't do things.