...is where the angels fly. Sometime in the period between where Saturday night turns into Sunday morning they gained another member. Sasha, our 12 year old German Shepherd, is gone.

We were not expecting this so soon, yet somehow it makes sense. Saturday night we let her in, and she was resisting coming to get her eye drops (for the cataract she had). DH gently grabbed ahold of her collar, and she took a snap at him. And connected. We were careful getting her drops in (she even took a snap at me), and decided that she needed to be in her kennel as the kids were getting a little nervous. She hid under DH's desk, and she took a snap at him there too when he started to reach under. She had never taken a snap at us before, except when she was grabbed rather roughly at the collar. Keep this in mind, this was a 65 pound furry fuzzball German Shepherd who would probably have rather died than bite anyone in her family. I find that a highly ironic statement in light of what DH came to tell me Sunday morning.

Anyway, we visited her in her kennel before we went to bed, and she was breathing a little hard and there was the barest of whimpers there. We were concerned, we called in DH's bite to the advice nurse, we discussed the inevitable end with the kids before they went to bed. A asked if it was happening now - if she was dying in her sleep. I told her that I doubted it and that we needed to be careful around Sasha because she's sensitive about the area around her neck now and that it was time for bed.

Sasha recently celebrated her 12th birthday - a fact that I noted here on Sept 22. I fully expected to see her make it to her 13th birthday. A little slower, maybe a little blinder, but still here with her happy wagging tail and perky ears. And I kept meaning to update my blog template so that you could see she's not a 10 year old but a 12 year old puppy. My apologies to you Sasha, as I remove your name from it now...

This morning, DH came into our bedroom and let me know that Sasha had passed away in her sleep, curled up in her kennel. I've been slowly losing it all morning and have a headache from the crying. I flash back and remember her all scared and silent in that mall pet store the day after Thanksgiving, and how sweet she seemed. All floppy ears and paws. We wondered for weeks whether or not those ears would stay up, and people were telling us that they needed to be pinned because even after 5 months she still had the edge of an ear that wouldn't stay straight. Even at the end her ears stayed perked up straight.

I miss my doggie so much it hurts. My head hurts from crying, and there's a big fat hole in my heart. A & B are handling it in their own ways. A took to blowing things up playing Ratchet and Clank for a little while; B kept going outside to pet Sasha's body and to write a note on her kennel. I've just been crying at random times when something flashes across my memory or consciousness that I need to go say hi to Sasha, or let her in for a little while. I know someone will slip at some point in the next few days and ask if she's been fed yet around dinnertime and I'll lose it again.

Right now the only thing that keeps away the tears is that I take solace in the faith that she's running around, happy and healthy, up at the Rainbow Bridge. Playing and happy, with lots of friends, and knowing that someday, long in the future, that one of her family will come and get her. Until then...

... somewhere, over the Rainbow, my Sasha-doggie flies across the fields. Pardon me while I go cry some more.