Sparkle was sick for a long time, but she never let on until a week ago. Late stage cancer. She was already experiencing liver and kidney failure. She probably only had a few days to live, and she was in pain. She declined dramatically in the last two days, and today we made the difficult choice to end her suffering.
She spent today at the vet's office where she was allowed to wander freely, making rounds with the doctors. Everyone who works there took a turn taking her outside. Her two doctors both tried to tempt Ginger with treats and even their own lunches, including pot roast and ham, but she wouldn't eat a thing, not even a french fry. She hadn't eaten in days.
Frank and I have been crying for hours.
I can't sleep.
There's so much I want to say about this dog and why she mattered in the overall May Voirrey narrative. There was a very specific reason I adopted her, and there were plenty of times she was the reason I didn't kill myself.
Sparkle was a good friend. I want to write and write and write, but I really need to try to sleep. I learned a lot from this dog--the only one I've ever shared my life and home with. She was a red and white border collie, with one blue eye and one brown eye. She hated small appliances, squirrels, the lawn mower, and most of all, the UPS truck. She was afraid of water and couldn't swim. She loved tennis balls, frisbees, walks, sitting in the shade, and being groomed. Mostly, she loved Frank.
Even though I'm the one who adopted Sparkle, she was always Frank's girl, from the first week we had her. Oh, she and I were good friends, but she was wholly dedicated to loving Frank and being the love of his life.
Now she's gone. She died surrounded with love and while being hugged and petted. The house feels so quiet and empty. Life here will never be the same.