Cheyenne - I love you - Goodbye

Cheyenne is gone. It happened Monday. She was ready, but it still hurts.

Cheyenne was a Golden Retriever/Yellow Lab mix. She spent most of her life being "the dog"....NOT family.
The family that owned her before were not loving people. Not kind people.
The dumbass, worthless daughter pawned poor Cheyenne off on her elderly parents when she was about 10 years old.
She lost interest.
A ten year old dog isn't "fun" anymore.
The selfish biznitch might have to....."work".
HEAVEN forbid!
So the elderly father did his best.
But he was married to the "Wicked Witch of Fort Wayne".
Evil, hateful old woman.
She did not want Cheyenne in the house for fear she might get fur in her pristine home.
I will spare you the details, but eventually Cheyenne was sent to the garage.
To live.
Or die.
14 year old bones. NO bed. Lying on the hard cement floor.
Day after day.
Potty in the Garage.
Sleep in the Garage.
Die in the Garage.
A good friend of mine and I basically lied our (CUTE!!) little arses off to get poor Cheyenne out of the goulag.
When I finally got her, she was 14 years old.
Her hair was falling out in clumps.
She was SEVERLY malnourished and dehydrated.
She had an untreated Urinanry Tract infection that had been working on her frail system for MONTHS.
It permanently damaged her kidneys and bladder.
I was afraid she would not make it through the weekend.
That was August 4th, 2008.

Amazingly, after my husband and I got her some medicine, GOOD food, water and an orthapedic bed, she not only improved, she FLOURISHED!!!
She romped in the yard! Chased squirrels! Balls! Dug holes (yeah, THANKS Obie!! Why do they ONLY teach each other the NAUGHTY stuff???). She went on walks and rolled in green grass!
She sat on the couch. Ate pizza crust (her favorite!)! I cooked her meat (I don't cook my HUSBAND meat!!).
She was loved.
Viola, our HUGE Maine Coon would sleep with her each night.
Viola is sleeping on Cheyenn's bed right now.....alone.
Evenyually, poor Cheyenne's body began to break down.
She turned 15 in October.
She stopped eating. Stopped drinking. Stopped romping.
She was READY, I know it. I could tell.
Her eyes said "Okay, seriously? I'm just done now."
I know it was the right thing to do to have her put down. She was ready, it was time.
Why does it still HURT so bad?
Since Febuary 2008, I have lost 5 of my children.
Othello (my most PRECIOUS baby boy) at 13, Molly (Travis' baby, VERY hard for him, VERY hard) also at 13 yrs, Milton (8 1/2 year old ferret...OLD for ferrets!!), and poor sweet Angelou to the..."incident"
It's in my blogs. Don't want to talk about it anymore.
And now Cheyenne.
So, I am left with 6 babies.
3 cats. 2 dogs. 1 ferret.
The house feels oddly empty.
I told the others they are FORBIDDEN to die!!! Or they will be in SERIOUS trouble!!!!
I'll let you know if that works.
Seriously, I need a break. I just cannot DO this anymore. Not for awhile.
The death. Saying Good-Bye. Ashes. The "room" in the Vets office.
It hurts too much.
It sits in my brain. In my soul.

Oh, hey, THIS is fun. The evil old woman who sent Cheyenne to the goulag called my Vet.
She wants my address. Wants to send me a "note".
Can't WAIT for that.

But would I do it again? Take in an animal I knew had a short life span ahead. To help them. To show them some peace and love and comfort in their last days?
Even if it ripped out my soul one more time.
YES.
Always.
It's what I do.
It's WHY I am here.