The eye surgery I had is very similar to cataract surgery. I mostly recall them giving me some calming meds and asking how I felt and me being like “well 30 minutes ago when this was still 45 minutes away I was calm but it’s much closer now and my calm is burning down”

Thank you all for your kind thoughts. I hope to be around more now, and especially to get caught up on all y'all's lives.

Cagney died 24 hours ago. He was still strong, and barky and stubborn and loved by the masses, and constantly begging for more food. But four days ago, he began showing signs of extreme pain. He never yelped, or indicated where it was coming from. But, for the first time in his life, he refused food. And, it showed in his overall posture. But, since arthritis was so much a part of that long dog's adulthood, I just adjusted his pain meds.

On Tuesday, it was one crisis after another. A neighbor took us to the emergency room and sat with us for six hours.

At that point, it became a swirling series of 'it's this. no wait, it's probably that, noooo. it's definitely this other thing.' Except it ended up being none of those things. He spent 45 hours on very strong drugs. (thank the gods)

I was definitively clear that I would not let him suffer, and I was not banking on false hope, but his vital signs were all _normal_. He did not have cancer and there was no musculature or spinal excuses for the pain. An ultrasound showed some organ anomalies, but none that would have required surgery.

In the end, he took the decision out of my hands by simply shutting down. We helped him along yesterday morning. No pain. No fear. Just peace.

I'm so grateful for the lessons I learned that helped me to keep Cagney healthy and happy for 5076 days. 3 years beyond a Basset Hound's usual.

And, I am incomplete. I genuinely do not know what is next, and I'm not what you would call okay, but it's not like when Bartleby died. I'm just unmoored. After 23 years of having a quirky, challenging and beloved dog glued to my side, I feel like what happens when you've been on a boat for a long time and suddenly have to stand on dry land.

I'm sorry to parachute in and take up so much space. But, you've known me, and them, for so long, it felt right to close the story.

Bonny, it's so hard to walk the line between not wanting to make that decision too soon but not wanting to prolong pain and suffering, and it's only harder when so many of the test results and signs are "normal." You and Cagney were so lucky to have each other, and I'm so sorry for your loss.

What Steph said.

yeah, this.

Perfectly said, Steph. Much love to you, bee. Rest well, sweet Cagney.

Oh Bonny. Oh Cagney. I’m so so sorry.

I'm so sorry. You and Cagney were so good for each other. Much love.

As your friend said, Cagney's last gift was to ease out of this world without forcing you to make that decision. Much love to you.

Bonny, I'm so sorry.