diva 6/7/02-9/2/11

I had to say goodbye to Diva yesterday. She was nine. It happened really quickly, she was fine in the morning but in the late afternoon I found her sprawled on the floor in an unusual room, unable to stand up with labored breathing and a rapid heart rate.

I carried her from our basement to my car. Eighty pounds and all I could think was “don’t die here”. (There really is nowhere good for your dog to die, I guess, but not in my arms, not in my car.) TPS made sure the Overlord gave me a kiss before Diva and I left for the vet; I needed it.

At the vet’s office, the same vet who helped when both Sage and Scout died two years ago carried her inside. He ran an EKG and gave me three possibilities of what it could be. I barely heard them; what I heard was “best prognosis is 6 months” and I knew it was time. Nine was a good run.

I took a final picture before we said goodbye. With my crappy phone in the crappy room with the crappy yellow light. Was that weird? I don’t care. My sweet girl:

Best dog ever.

Last dog ever.