Gus William Gilmore

November 21, 2013

Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life.

As I said Monday night, Gus started slowing down and feeling yucky Sunday. Aria and I cuddled on the floor with him. He was hurting, but I thought all he needed was a little TLC. Thinking back to that night, though, deep down I knew. I was just in denial. I even knew to ask Levi to take our picture- which would be the last picture we ever take of Gus.

Monday night came, and Gus was a completely different dog. We let him out front to potty and he just stood there, back legs shaking, his nose against the spindles of the front porch. I asked Levi, " Why is he so weak off all the sudden?"

"That's what cancer does to you," he said.

That sentence threw me out of my denial. We were going to have to let Gus go.

Tuesday, I came home and Gus seemed even worse. He barely lifted his head up off the floor when I walked up the stairs and greeted him with my usual, "Hi Gussy Wussy!"

I called Levi to tell him the bad news. He was still at work and couldn't answer. I went to the kitchen to get Gus's medicine ready. All of the sudden, Gus was standing behind me. He moved like a ninja- so quickly and quietly. I laughed and said, "Well hi Gus! I guess you're ready for your pill in a hot dog!"

The next thought going through my head was maybe he's not ready. After he had his hot dog, though, it was back to sick Gus. Weak, red and swollen eyes and no desire to move around. so I made the call.

We wanted to wait until the next day so Colbin could say goodbye to him.

Wednesday I got home from work and went in the house through the garage like usual. Gus was lying on the bottom landing in front of the door. He wouldn't get up. I don't really know how he got down there with him being so weak, so it breaks my heart to think that he probably fell down the stairs to get next to the door we usually leave the house from.

I took that as a him saying, "Mom, I'm ready. Let's go."

Levi picked him up and took him to the grass to see if he needed to potty. Gus didn't even try to stand, he just fell to the ground.

The whole process went "smoothly". The vet was very caring and sincere. She has been treating Gus throughout the year since he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma in January.

She said the cancer usually spreads to the lungs, but sometimes it can spread to their brain and that's probably what happened with Gus. That makes sense since his being able to function went down hill so fast and with his eyes getting so red and swollen.

We were glad to see that the room the vet took us to was a nice, carpeted room with couches and tissues. They made us feel very comfortable.

We said our goodbyes and the doctor sedated him. He seemed to fight the sedation until Levi and I told him, "It's ok, Gus. You don't have to fight anymore. We love you. You can go now."

Then he was fast asleep.

We stayed through the second shot. The shot. Until the doctor checked his heart and said, "He's gone, guys."

We put two of his tennis balls next to him and kept one to take home. I stood up to leave, then couldn't seem to bring myself to shut the door behind me. Could I really just leave him there? I knew I had to. He is in a better place now.

Needless to say, I cried myself to sleep last night. I cried when I woke up. I cried when I left for work because he wasn't here when I said, "Buh bye, Gus. I love you! Be a good boy!" like I do every day.

And of course, I'm crying now.

By habit, we keep wanting to put the white sheet back on the couch that we always have for him. (I'm sure you have noticed this in pictures of past posts.)

Gus was a great dog, a super friend, and a wonderful brother to our kids. We had a wonderful eight years together and I'm thankful for the last year we got to have with him after he was diagnosed with his cancer, as many dogs don't live past 6 months.