After a weekend battle with pneumonia, early this morning, on Mother's Day, the Queen of the house drew her last breath. I have to admit I knew she was going to die on Thursday. Sometimes being a clinician can really suck! I spent the weekend giving her antibiotics and breathing treatments, but I knew in the end it would be futile. Bitsy was no spring chicken. She just couldn't bounce back this time.
I want to give honor to this precious Pom and her indomitable spirit. She was first brought to our house for a visit. She was in a dog rescue, and she was unable to walk. Typically I do not foster Pommies, but when she snuggled into my lap, let out a deep contented "I'm home" sigh, I knew she had decided to stay. And once Bitsy decided something, it was a done deal.
It took months to teach her to walk again. The first day she made it to the doggie water bowl by herself? It was a glorious victory! Her spindly legs would never win a race or win a grace contest, but she did ambulate. She was not afraid of dogs bigger than her, and she was known to boss around the humans and dogs in the house. If she didn't approve of behavior, she would let out a loud ""AAAATTTT." I never knew a dog could make that sound.
It would not at all be appropriate for the Queen to die alone so I sat up with her. The girls had long gone to sleep; I didn't want to break their hearts any earlier than I must. But right around midnight, Darling Bitsy passed, and honestly, we are not taking it well. This is a sad sad day indeed.
