Molly

It was such a shock when Molly died. It really was, even though I knew it was coming. Since I'd taken her to the vets on Monday, and they told me to prepare to the worst and she probably wouldn't make it to the next day.

But she did. She was improving. Stood up again, the walking looked better (although admittedly she'd still only walk a few yards and back). Thing is, I just held on to that small improvement, and put all other thoughts at the beck of my head, far far away so that I wouldn't have to deal with the possibility of having to put her to sleep.

She was fine up until Friday evening. In the space of a few seconds, something must have happened - but all of a sudden what little feeling she had left in her hind legs had gone. She crawled up to me in the bedroom, dragging herself along with her front legs only, paralysed from the waist downwards, panic in her face.
I'll never forget the fear and the pleading in her eyes. She was so scared. She didn't know what was going on. She was scared and in pain.
M took her to the emergency vets while I stayed at home with Teddy. Finally, his phone call came. Yes, they could give her an injection of painkillers, but didn't think that would do anything. They recommended relieving her of the pain, once and for all.
That's when I started to panic.
I didn't want this to happen. And surely not without me being there. So I packed a half asleep Teddy in the car and drove to the emergency vets. M was waiting outside for us. We went in to see Molly. She was a little calmer, but still yelping with pain and ever so scared. I talked to her, stroked her face, knowing that these would be our last moments together, in a strange cold room under neon light in the middle of the night.
Teddy said bye bye to her. Well actually he didn't as he didn't know it would be his goodbye. He stroked her and laughed and said "Mimi"; thinking this was just a strange night time adventure but here was Mimi, his dog.
The vet sent us out while she fitted the canule to put the syringe in. They tried both legs but the veins were too brittle, so they had to go for the jugular vein. If possible, this pained me even more, to see her so worried with the nurse holding her head down. She wasn't even in a comfortable position. I stroked her and talked to her while they did it, saying "Don't worry Molly, it'll be alright" while I knew it was NOT going to be alright. Then she was gone.
I cried so much and just didn't want to leave her. We were in the room with her for a long time, until I calmed down. They put her in a blanket and carried her back into her box in M's car. We paid for the privilege of them killing our dog. Then we drove home.
Teddy had been surprisingly un-grumpy through all of this and though he was still awake, didn't moan when we put him back in his bed. I didn't go to sleep for a long time.
The next morning, when I dragged myself out of bed after only a few hours as I had to go to work, Teddy was on our bed, as every morning, for our morning cuddle. He came up to the foot end, pointed down at Molly's empty box and asked "Mimi?". I told him she was no longer there and started crying. I know he is too little to fully comprehend this, but it still broke my heart to see this.
Now, almost a week on, it still feels so strange without her. I keep "seeing" or "hearing" her around the house before I remember that she's no longer here. I miss her so much.
I have always wanted her to live long enough for my children to grow up with her. Well, that came true. She was Teddy's first dog, and I like to think it influenced him for the better. He has always loved her, was fascinated by her - even as a very small baby his eyes would focus when she came near, and he would turn his head to look after her. As soon as he became mobile, he made her life living hell as he kept following her everywhere. I think from about the point when he started feeding her, the love became a bit more mutual. And just recently Teddy had learned to say her name, both "Molly" and "Mimi" which was her nickname.
I know that one day we'll have another dog but just now I can't imagine ever finding such a good dog as Mimi was, or ever loving a dog as much.