I need to document this story even though it is very fresh and painful. I don't want to forget.

I decided last week that it was time to let Sami go. She had been ill for months and we had been giving her many medications to keep her comfortable. Some of the medications stopped working. Despite up to 18 units of insulin twice a day she continued to drink excessively and could not control her bladder. She was losing weight. Her cataracts took her sight completely away. She lost her instinct to protect herself. She stopped responding to sounds. She wandered and was confused, sometimes staring into a corner for several minutes. Add to all of this the fact that a portion of her spine was fused from arthritis which impacted her movement and coordination and left her back legs partially lame.

We made the appointment for Saturday morning. We were led in a back door to a private room at our vet's office. There was a couch and a lamp, tissues, and artwork on the walls. We had brought Sami's blanket with her to lay on. She laid on the floor on her blanket for a while then they came to get her to put in the catheder. I was glad they did not do this in front of us. The nurse (who we have grown quite close to over the year) carried her back in to the blanket and said she was very calm and had no trouble with the line being put in. She said Sami was glad to see everyone. They wrapped her leg with gauze so the line was not visible to me.

We were left alone with Sami for a bit while we waited for the doctor. I sat on the floor with her, and Steve sat to my right on the couch. We stroked her fur and spoke softly to her. I talked about her life with me, the last fourteen years. I asked her if she was tired and ready to go. She looked at me with glazed-over, white eyes and I knew she was mostly already gone from the cognitive disorder. She was entirely calm and sweet.

The nurse popped her head in and asked if we were ready. I said we were. She was followed in by another nurse and our vet. Our vet sat on the couch beside Steve and both nurses sat on the floor with me. One kept her right arm around me and her left hand stroked Sami's head as she spoke of a rainbow bridge. The other sat toward Sami's rear and kept one hand on her femoral artery and one stroked her back. The doctor explained that he was giving her a sedative into her line. I kept both hands under Sami's head, and held her that way. Her head grew heavy and I lowered it, but kept it in my hands. Then the doctor asked if we were ready. I was vaclempt, but managed to say yes. He then injected the solution. Sami was still and quiet. There was no indication of any struggle. I didn't feel her move or hear her exhale. I wasn't sure if she was sleeping or dead so I asked the vet how I would know when it was over. He simply said it had been over for a few minutes already. Steve told me later that the nurse monitoring Sami's pulse ahd removed her hand and nodded at the doctor a few minutes prior to me asking.

We all cried except the vet. But he did say that after forty years of being a vet, he takes certain cases with him, and Sami is one he will never forget. He shook my hand and patted Steve's leg. He and one nurse left. Our nurse we are close to (Terry) stayed with us. She was going to give us time alone but I told her I wanted her to stay. I laid Sami's head down on the ground and covered her body with her blanket. I leaned down and kissed her head and whispered thank you, and I love you.

I got up and hugged Terry and then we left. I left my sweet girl on the floor and walked out the door. I looked back once at her still frame, her head on the floor between her front two paws, eyes closed. I will always remember her final resting face. Quiet and peaceful.

It has been so hard for me to handle this loss. Sami has been with me since 1997 when I was 19. She's been with me through good times and horrible times. She was constant. And now she is gone and I wonder when I will be able to stop crying.

She was sent for private cremation and they will send her ashes to me in a cedar box because I will have moved to Colorado before she is ready. I am unsure wether I will keep the ashes or scatter them. Time will tell.