My sweet Mabel,
I brought you home 1/29/14. You had just turned 2 on 12/1 shortly before being rescued from the puppy mill auction on 1/9. I saw you sweet little face and scared little eyes on Petfinder and I knew you had to be mine. My heart was still hurting after losing my first pup on 1/1 but as soon as I saw you, I knew we both had healing to do and we could do it together. You were so afraid at first, those first few days were tough, but quickly you realized I was safe, you could trust me. Over the last ten years, you have given me so much love and joy, more than I ever realized was possible. It wasn’t always easy, but to me you were perfect and I loved you so much. You were my snuggle bunny, my shadow, my daily dose of sass and laughter. We had almost ten years together but it doesn’t feel like enough. When you were diagnosed with heart valve disease 5/22/23, I thought we still had another year or two before I’d have to think about you leaving me. But that time came just four short months later. I think the stress of your rough start in life just wore down your sweet little heart. I hospitalized you twice, to try to get you back to where you were before the sudden change in symptoms. The first time you came home and seemed good as new! We got 6 days together living like nothing was wrong. And I spent as much hours of those 6 days with you as I possibly could. And then it happened again, you couldn’t breathe, your heart was failing yet again, so to the hospital you went a second time to try to get you back to where you were, with med adjustments to hopefully get more than just 6 more good days together. But when I brought you home the second time, it wasn’t the same as the first time. You were still struggling. We didn’t get any more good days. I gave us four more days together, waiting to see if you would improve, but you didn’t. I could tell you were struggling so hard and you looked so scared when you couldn’t get enough air. You had a cardiology scheduled just 3 days later. I desperately wanted to get you to that appointment on Friday. Maybe they could do something, come up with a new treatment plan to help you live comfortably a little while longer. But on Tuesday night, you were struggling so hard. My tears were flowing when I kissed your little head and I said okay, okay, I promise, I’ll make it stop. And I called the emergency hospital and said I think it’s time. She’s suffering. They agreed and shortly thereafter, I watched you drift off to sleep and I said goodbye as I kissed your head and felt your soft fur for the last time. I hope I did the right thing for you Mabel. I second guess everything now. Should I have tried harder? Should I have hospitalized you again to get you to that cardiology appointment? Could we have had more time together? Did I pull the plug too soon? I will never know the answers to those questions. All I knew was that I couldn’t bear to see you struggle one more day. I’m so sorry Mabel. I will love and miss you forever.