missing her

The short story is that my wonderful dog, Ozzie, passed. 

The long story is that she had a terrible spinal tumor, and despite aggressive surgery, it came back with a vengeance.  After a week or two of being better, she became increasingly painful, and increasing the meds only made her nauseous and unhappy.  I never really thought that it would come back so quickly, so when I woke up one day to see that look in her eyes I was shocked and devastated—she looked just tired, defeated, and done. I was not making it up.  Even though she was walking okay in the morning, by noon, she could not walk. She did  not want to eat, so we took her off the meds, gave her a dose of Xanax and pain relievers and spent all day feeding her her favorite foods—rotisserie chicken, ice cream and cheese.  All of her best human and animal friends were with her.  My ex, who adopted her with me, came to see her, and so did my best friend who had known her since she was a puppy. In the end, she had a wonderful day.  Her sister came and lay down next to her before they gave her the shot.  She was surrounded by her loved ones at home and feeling comfortable and safe.