Hey all – Today Martha rested her head on my lap and went to sleep one last time.

She’d been super active as of late and *hated* being in the crate, resorting to a regular whine at her confinement.  Tuesday night I took her out for a few minutes to cuddle with her and around that same time, someone knocked at my front door.  Martha, ever the great protector, popped up faster than a jack-rabbit, forgot her legs didn’t work, and ran to the front door to announce the caller.

It all happened so fast, that I didn’t have time to catch her and instead watched her as she tumbled head first down the stairs.  After a few moments of hysteria, it was clear that Martha was fine except for a slightly injured front paw.

This morning, I took her outside to potty.  She can’t do it on her own, but rather than use doggie pee pads, I’ve been taking her outside to keep a semblance of normalcy for the both of us.  Martha wiggled and wanted to run so much that I couldn’t keep her still to help her potty.  (PS – I hate the word potty, but I don’t know what else to call it.)

What I'm trying to say is, this girl wanted to move.

Today, we went for her fourteen day check up and after running a series of tests, the neuro looked at me and told me that Martha’s condition had not improved, and she didn’t think there was much hope that it would at this point.  In addition, Martha had developed a UTI and needed antibiotics.

I knew that if I took her home, we were just going to continue with more of the same – Martha wanting to run around and down the stairs, but being confined, and Martha developing infections as a result of her condition.  (I haven’t mentioned them, but she’s had other (way too TMI) issues besides the UTI.)  So I decided it was time.

We put her on the floor and gave her something to make her drowsy.  She curled up in my lap and then went peacefully and without any pain.

***

I guess they send the dogs somewhere for cremation because the neuro asked if I would want her ashes.  Finding this really creepy, I said no.

“Ok,” she answered, “Just so you know, she’s not going into a dump or anything, the cremation company spreads the ashes into the ocean.  It’s very nice.”

With that I raised my head up and said, “Oh, if that’s the case then I want them, and I’ll find some place to distribute them.”

The neuro looked at me quizzically, and I smiled before saying, “She'd love the dump because of all the great smells and things to discover, but she’s always been terrified of water.”

Here's a three year old video of Martha showing off her "guard dog" skills.  :-) (We're totally goofing off, by the way - she is not hurting anyone in this video.)