On July 16th, with everyone she loved around her, we helped Tasha on to her place at the Rainbow Bridge. She had a tumor in her mouth that we intended to do surgery on to cut it back and make her more comfortable. She also had lumps growing under the skin in seven different places. All were going for biopsy to see if they were osteosarcoma or something else. We had to put the surgery off because her last chemo session had dropped her WBC's and platelets down to a critical level and the bleeding might have been uncontrollable. While we waited, another small tumor started on the roof of her mouth, at the gum line of a tooth. That morning she bebopped into the vet's office with her usual enthusiasm, but I noticed she hesitated about going up the ramp into the Blazer. The vet was pulling up the surgery meds, and she just kept thinking Tasha is not herself today. So she did chest x-rays. There were fifteen mets, one was the size of a tennis ball. We will never know if something suddenly made the cancer go out of control, of if the chemo just didn't work. I went to get her and we intended to spend the time she had left just loving her and making her comfortable. When I got to the clinic, she had trouble getting up, but had been lying on concrete floor, so we all thought she had stiff joints from that. Once she got going she was OK. When we got home, she had trouble getting to the house, but her Deramaxx was due, so I still thought it was temporary. I gave her meds, and gave her water in the crate, which was her haven. She ate from my hand since she had no desire to stand up and eat. In 2 hours when my son got home, it was obvious she could not use her back legs any longer. She had also developed 2 more lumps that were not there in the morning.  I had always had this picture in my head that she would be so ill and tired that the decision would be an easy one. It was not to be. She was still alert and gave us all kisses and was eating chicken pieces while we waited for the vet tech to bring a stretcher. She nuzzled and licked Raven's face and ears, and I like to think they were saying good-bye.  We strapped her onto the stretcher, and by the time we got to the clinic, she had used her one front leg to pull herself out and was still trying to stand up. The vet and the tech got an IV in, and with all of us holding her in our arms, we gave her the final gift of taking all the pain away. It has taken a bit for me to write this out, because even though I was prepared for it eventually, it came as a shock that day. She was still eating the slurry I was making with gusto, and all systems seemed to be going strong. The vet thinks maybe a spinal tumor is what took away the use of her legs.

When you lose a dog as big as Tasha, it leaves a huge hole in your life. I live in a small house, and it seems very big and empty now. Little Raven, the Boston mix who thought she was Tasha's mom, did not show any signs of distress for the first day, but the second day she stopped eating and it was very obvious she was grieving. I was still carrying Tasha's collar in my purse, and on the fourth day I had an idea. I took the collar out and laid it on the floor for Raven to smell. I petted her, held her, cried a bit and said Tasha is gone now honey. Then I rolled up the collar and as she watched, I put it away in a cabinet. Since that day she has been much better and each day she gets more active. Things will never be the same, but I remember each day the joy we had with her, and how much both her mommies and her dad loved her. She is now running with no pain and she will forever be my one and only Tasha.

Mary Beth and Raven