We have been preparing for this day for almost a year since Tinder was first diagnosed with an unusual grape-like-cluster of a tumor in October of '97. We breathed a sigh of relief when we found out it wasn't malignant. We won her back for a little while longer. Then April '98 came and took her from us again. Kidney failure made her bloat like a balloon and our hearts sank when she was only given a week to six to be with us. Everyday since then was painful and joyous. Her willpower was the strongest I have encountered in a long time. She was our baby although she was not our youngest, nor was she the first nor our last. She was only 4 years old and had her with us for 3 of those years. Everyday she stayed alert and everyday she took her medication. She pooped with control on the newspapers (she couldn't climb into the litter boxes anymore) and she slept with us everynight. She had this ritual of climbing under the sheets and licking and biting our toes and then climbing up one sheet level and nest build on top of our legs. When she got to the point she could no longer climb up onto the waterbed, we lifted her up. She knew exactly how to tell us when she wanted up - she would waddle over to the bed and sigh; I would then extend my hand down to her and she would climb onto my hand just enough to allow me to pick her up. The toe licking/biting, the nest building... bedtime will never be the same. We had her outside a few days ago. I'm glad it was warm out and that she got to smell the grass and feel the breeze on her face. We had noticed that she has stopped putting up a fuss when getting her medication. She just... took it and sighed. She knew something we didn't. She no longer wandered from her bed to poop and pee. It was just to hard to get anywhere. I found her yesterday half in her bed. She no longer had the strength to climb all the way in. Her breathing was sounding moist - fluid had definitely gotten into her lungs. It would only be a matter of days - we were sure. We cried and we hugged and we cried. We knew it was time to let her go and free her to her paradise. We both took the day off of work so that we could spend her last hours together. We cleaned her room and we cuddled her often. I took pictures of her and her dad. We cried as we cleaned knowing that her time was near. I bathed her and dad scratched her in her favourite places. She didn't respond to having her sides scratched like she use to. Only one side now and only partially. But she tried to show us that she still loved it. We laid with her and watched her sleep and cried until the sheets were wet. We tried to hide our pain while we planned for her return to the other side. Dad fell asleep beside her and she pressed closer to him. I heard and felt every minute tick by and they were the longest minutes I have ever had to endure. Finally the moment came when we had to go. We bundled her up and held her close and carried her outside. We carried her around the yard letting her smell her last smells of the warm September afternoon. I drove the car while dad held her on his lap, constantly stroking and reassuring her that everything was all right. When we got to the vet, we couldn't get out of the car - every last minute wish that she would recover came flooding into our brains. But we knew that we would only be causing her more pain by delaying the inevitable. The room had a beautifully soft pink blanket waiting for her. We carried her around the room and passed her back and forth - each of us wanting one last moment with her, smelling her, hearing her ..... When the vet came in, he asked us our wishes and we explained that we wanted a necropsy performed on her and that we also wanted her body back. He explained where and what the mercy shot would do and asked us if we wanted to stay. We had already talked about that between us and had agreed that we wanted to be together until the end. And so it was.... the shot to her liver (he hoped he had the right area - she was so bloated) was delivered with care. He said it would be like she was going into a deep sleep and that it would take about 20 minutes to take total affect. Dad picked her up and cradled her like a baby - two minutes later she drifted to her higher plain..... dook, dook, dook...... We stayed with her for a little while longer, holding her and telling her how much we loved her. We laid her back on the table and placed her on her back with her head curled to the left and her paws slightly crossed. This is how she liked to sleep and felt it appropriate for her last earthly position. With last hugs and kisses on her already paling nose we said our goodbyes and went back to our hollow home. I will be picking her body up tomorrow and then we can finally lay her to rest with the rest of her buddies. And although I cry for the silence I hear, I feel her freedom and smile at the thought of her tiny white toed paws grabbing my ankles asking me to play. Yes, honey, I will always have time to play with you. Betty and Jim and our Blur O'Fur from the tears in our eyes. Tinder we love you! For now and always. [Posted in FML issue 2429]