I can answer your questions; some folks might not want to read any further because I will write down what the private cremation experience was like, from the time my dog died until the cremation was done. And to answer your questions, this will be long.

I had to give some thought to exactly how it happened since it will be 5 years in July (some of what I said earlier was slightly inaccurate). And this will answer your stroke questions, too. Belle had spinal myelopathy for years, so she gradually lost her rear, basically. For a few years she was wobbly but ok, then it got worse. Her last 6 months were what I described earlier. She had no bowel control; she laid on a bed with a baby absorbent pad and towels. The poop would just fall out and we'd clean it up, change the pad, do a bunch of laundry. For some reason urine is different with this disorder. But when Belle couldn't even get up on her own anymore, my husband would carry her outside cradled like an infant. She'd prop up against us and we'd hang onto her and she would pee. Then it got worse and she would pee on the pads. I had to invest a small fortune in waterless dog shampoo to keep her from getting urine scald. This is when the arguing over quality of life began. And it continued because Belle would perk up and wag and play with a toy if we brought it to her. I remember thinking "dammit--there is no way she's happy." But she seemed to be, much of the time.

Belle wasted away. She had little appetite and was very thin. Her adult weight was about 76 pounds; when she died, she was about 55. I was able to carry her outside at that point. And that's when she had her stroke. I took her out to pee. I propped her against me as usual and had to press on her bladder to get her started (another thing I left out, the last month or so of her life). She peed and was looking around, taking in the world. Then suddenly I thought she was having a seizure--and then I just knew what it was. She bobbed her head up and down vigorously and often. It was deliberate. She could no longer hold her head up and it was obvious she was trying to get it up. She failed.

Of course I was on the ground in seconds with her. Her back feet, already unstable and turning under due to the myelopathy, turned under even more. Like spasticity--her tendons and ligaments were pulling her feet under rigidly. She couldn't even pretend to stand any longer, and she was trying desperately. She just fought to get that head up and stay on her feet.

I picked her up and brought her in to her bed. She couldn't sit up. She was on her side, like always, but she couldn't stay upright. Couldn't lift her head up. And I think she may have had her sight impacted because she acted like she couldn't see clearly. I don't think she was blind, but she may have lost sight in one eye. 

We moved her bed so that she was able to be propped against a wall. That helped. She didn't seem to be in any pain but she was anxious. We watched her for a little while. (I called the vet and he confirmed it certainly sounded like a stroke. He said there was nothing he could do and she would not get better.) She did not improve. This happened in the afternoon. Then she started howling that night. She'd always been a singer but she was doing that constant howl and I was undone. I doped her up on leftover pain meds and stayed with her till morning. I don't think she hurt. She never trembled or shook like from pain. I think she was wigged out. The howling didn't last long. Once she was relaxed from the drugs (I don't even remember what it was but something doggie for pain), she was fine. I needed therapy. 

I called the vet the next morning and loaded her into the car. And by the way, she seemed content. Still couldn't sit up but didn't seem at all uncomfortable or unhappy. In fact, she ate a little food. I couldn't believe she would eat, but I hand fed her canned food and she ate. But there was no way I was going to continue the farce (as I saw it) of pretending this was a good way to live. My husband finally agreed. 

After Belle left me in the back of the car, I drove her home. I had 2 other dogs (one of them Dakota, my tripawd) and let them see her. They were satisfied and never looked back, never seemed to miss her. I believe that made a difference. I called the cremation place and they said they couldn't do the cremation till the next day but they wanted me to bring her body to them. They would put her in a very cold refrigeration unit overnight. And that process helped me. I drove her down the hill to them, wrapped in her blue blanket. They met me outside with a gurney and asked if I wanted to put her on it or have them do it. I told them I wanted to do as much as I was allowed. So I loaded her and pushed her inside and put her into the fridge. It was similar to a chest freezer. She was the only animal in it. She stayed wrapped in her blanket. I pretty much said my goodbyes then.

I drove home and then went back the next day at the time they told me to come. Gurney appeared, fridge was opened, a nice guy brought her out (it was deep and leaning way over to get her was really awkward for me) and put her on the gurney. He pushed it into a private room and told me to come out when I was ready. I think seeing her so very cold helped. It wasn't Belle any more. It was what Belle left behind. It was only half of the beauty that was Belle, and it made it easier to say goodbye and continue the process.

We wheeled the gurney into the giant creamtion facility. I was shown the various units and shown the private ones. The door was already opened and we went over to it. The nice guy said he had to put Belle into it due to regulations. I was ok with that. He was as gentle with her as my husband always was carrying her like a baby. He put her in on her side and put his hand on her head for a long moment. He asked if I was ok and I said yes. He folded up her blue blanket and handed it to me. Then he showed me the metal tag that would be around her wrist that had a number on it. That was how I would know it was Belle, even if I hadn't stayed. 

I went outside to a bench they had in a garden area and sat for awhile. I brought a book but I couldn't read. I walked around for a little while and sat some more. I went inside at one point and several employees came over to talk to me as a group. They said, "Tell us about your dog." So I did.

It took somewhere between 2 and 3 hours. I will tell you that they warned me it might take longer because Belle was so incredibly thin. The sad fact is, fat speeds things along. So Belle had no fat left to speed it along. But when it was done, things had to cool. They came and got me when it was cooling and showed me that was happening. I was always informed of everything. And when it was completely cool and they opened the door, I was very surprised. The ash pattern was like a dim shadow of my dog. The outline was there perfectly, but it was so obvious that she was completely gone from earth. It was sad, but it wasn't horrifying. It was completion. That was good for me. I watched while the nice guy collected her remains in something (I don't remember what). He went inside and came out in moments with a box. It was warm, which was almost nice. I mean, if she had to be gone, I was pleased that she was away such a short time that her remains were still warm.

I'm sorry I wrote so much. I think it's important for you, though, so you can make your decision. I can tell you that I have no regrets and am glad I could give this gift to Belle. She was with me for 15 1/2 years and she was my heart dog. The next dog that left us, Zoot (3 years ago), went to the same place. I didn't take Zoot, because I trusted these people to care for her diligently. But if I can take the next dog (likely Dakota), I will. (And of course I left out the crying.)

I went through the exact same thing with my great dane, Daisy, two years ago.  She was losing her two year battle with lymphoma and we had decided to say goodbye on a Monday so that we could spend the entire weekend with her.  I got home from work on Friday and her breathing was labored.  I hugged her and talked to her and I could tell in her eyes that she was ready.  I called my wife and we met at the vet's office Friday afternoon.  I was a mess as we walked in and they put her on the table.  After she passed, a great sense of relief came over me as I knew she was no longer in pain.  As dog owners we all know that we will one day face this and I firmly believe our companions have a unique way of letting us know when they are ready.  You will make the right decisison for both you and Percy and please do not stress or worry, Percy knows you love her.

I went through this too, and felt intense pressure from the outside world to put my boy to death.  It wasn't until I saw him struggle to hold himself upright to go potty, and he lost that struggle that I realized it was time. His back and his front leg shook in the effort, and I know he wanted very much to relieve his potty problem, but wouldn't potty on himself.   I loved him with everything that I am, and felt I was his only champion.  I had to do the best for him, because others didn't know him like I did.  It no longer was "death" to me, but I was protecting him from suffering.

My boy never really gave me the look, but I knew his body was done.  His body was breaking and I couldn't stop it any longer.  He and I will always love each other, but now one of us is on the other side.  I miss him moment to moment.  He is as a part of my heart as my blood supply. 

Now, looking back, it was a defining moment to see him collapse, not able to stand to go potty.  He wanted to go so badly before he died.  I wish I could have saved him from that uncomfortable feeling.  I feel my heart beat and know he is with me. 

Elizabeth, Sammy's mom

It was ok to tell you about Belle, both the stroke and the cremation. Don't worry about that. I wanted you to have the details because I don't want you avoiding something that might bring you some peace. Only you know if you want to do that part, but knowledge helps. And you don't have to do as much as I did. You can sit outside or even in your car and let them do everything. That's fine. Nobody will think anything one way or the other about your decision. Will you ever see those people again? Probably not. And they've seen it all. You love your dog; they'll understand that. So if you go, you can always stop and tell whoever you're working with, "I thought I wanted to do this part with you but I really need to let you do it while I wait in my car." 

If I can leave you with one thing from what I wrote before it is this: Doing what I did--for me--helped me feel the completion of everythng. I won't use the word closure. I don't like that word. But I really needed to do that to feel that things were complete. Going to the vet's office to pick up a box a week later has worked for me at other times. For whatever reason, that would not have helped me at this time. 

Keep us posted; we all care about Percy, and about you.

Shari