A lady in the crowd
2016-11-15 06:54:34 (UTC)

Her Final Breath.

It was in our hands to decide the fate of my best friend. Either we put our Rottweiler out of her misery, end her suffering once in for all, or Savannah continues to live a life full of agony. Could it be any worse? Two veterinarians from Mexicali felt revolted towards our decision: "We don't murder dogs," they said and turned their backs on us. The third one agreed to put Savannah asleep forever. The veterinarian was a light-skinned chubby woman in her mid thirties, she wore a mask of foundation, winged-eyeliner, and a white coat above her black blouse. My grandma and I were under the impression that our dog had an incurable disease of canine parvoviris. We were right about one thing- the illness didn't have a cure. Savannah has liver cancer: she lost a lot of weight, hardly ate, and had a dark brown discharge that reeked of rotting flesh.

The veterinarian carried our underweight dog above the shor-line table. She shaved Savannah's two front paws with a razor, tapped on her right leg to find her vain, and injected my dog with anesthesia. I pet her and kissed her forehead as she fell into a deep slumber. The second injection on her right paw was the fatal euthanasia medication. I touched her nose; she was still lightly breathing. I thought it was a sign my dogs life shouldn't end like this. The vet shaved her back legs but couldn't find her veins. The last resort was another doses injected directly to the heart. I saw Savannah take her last breath and I broke down in tears.

Savannah was part of my life since I was 5 years old. She was once an adorable puppy who fit in the palm of my two hands; watching her die before my eyes shattered my heart into a dozen pieces. I kissed her forehead one last time and closed both of her eyes with my fingertips. When we walked out of the building I felt hollow and powerless, because their was nothing I could've done to help her.
I arrived home and my other dog, Roxy, waited for her companion who would never arrive. "She's gone," I whispered.

03-03-04 through 12-17-16 felt like time-lapse video; it all passed by too quickly. Savannah's final moments sadden me, but I try to remember our happy moments we share. I smile at our memories that I will hold onto for the rest of my life.

-Yours Truly,