For the past 14 years, I have been living with a service animal. I am profoundly deaf. And, in 2011, I flew out to [conference for hearing ear dogs], so that is when I met and got teamed up with Gertie Aster, my hearing ear dog. Gertie was half labrador retriever, half golden retriever, and the best of both breeds. I was very surprised during the fourteen years that we lived together at how much she really understood about what was going on. She understood more English than the words to which she had been trained. Gertie turned fourteen years old on June the 24th — I’m sorry, I misspoke, so she was 16 years old on June the 24th.
Gertie had been failing for the past year. Two nights ago, Gertie could not stand at all. This was shortly after dinner. This was a big problem because Gertie weighed 55 pounds and I was not strong enough to pick her up and carry her outside and place her in the nice green grass where she could defecate and urinate, which she usually wanted to do after eating a meal.
So, I decided to put out a training pad for dogs, and I managed to get it under her back end, and I left her on the living room floor to spend the night on the floor. So, in the morning, when I got up, I discovered that she had defecated and she had urinated on herself on the floor in the living room. I called the veterinarian when the clinic opened at 8:30 and I asked if they would allow her to come in on an emergency basis, and I explained the problem with Gertie. It’s a good thing I called ahead, because the receptionist said that the main veterinarian there, who has been Ger — Gertie’s veterinarian, was off duty. But I was asked to leave my phone number and the receptionist knew someone who could be called in on an emergency basis to fill in for the main veterinarian who was taking the day off.
So, I got a call back in about 15 minutes and they said, “Have Gertie here at 10 am,” so I called my first cousin who is also a very dear friend, and I also asked [friend] if she would be able to go with me to the clinic because I said, “I am expecting some bad news and your moral support would mean a lot to me, if you could just go and be with me.” And she said she would.
So, we arrived at the clinic at 10 o’clock, and the first thing that I said to the veterinarian was, “I want to consider euthanasia as a very, very last resort. I am hoping that you can prescribe a pill or give Gertie an injection that will enable her to raise her hind legs and stand up and walk again.” He felt the muscles in her two hind legs and he said, “She can no longer stand because her muscles are so shriveled.” There is no pill or injection that the veterinarian could give Gertie that would strengthen her muscles enough that she could stand again.
He said, “Your dog is never going to walk again, and euthanasia is really your best choice at this point. You do not need to decide today. If you want to think about it, if you’re uncomfortable with the notion today, you can put it off ‘till tomorrow to decide, or you could wait until day after tomorrow. But, I can guarantee you that Gertie will still be unable to stand up tomorrow and the following day.” And I told the veterinarian, in the presence of [friend’s name], “Could you please give me ten minutes in which to process this information that you’ve just given me?” And he said, “Yes, I can.” So, he turned around and left the room and he said, “I will be back in a little while.” And he closed the door. And one minute later, here comes one of his assistants bringing a large box of Kleenex and placing it on the examination table. And she left.
So, [friend’s name] and I discussed the situation, and we both cried. She said, “I’m sorry, but I really agree with the veterinarian. Euthanasia is the best choice.” So, I cried some more, and then I said, “Yes. You and the veterinarian are telling me the same thing and I know that you’re both right.” So, when the veterinarian came back into the room, I told him, “I have decided, reluctantly, but I think I have no choice at this point. I think I need to set Gertie free and let her go to the Rainbow Bridge.” And he said, “Well, I think you’re making the right decision.” And I told him, “When you’re ready to give the first injection, I would like to stand beside Gertie, and I would like to stroke her fur, and I have a song that I would like to sing to her.” And he got the needle ready and he said, “Okay, are you ready to sing?” And I said, “Yes. This is a song that I made up for Gertie, and I would sing it to her when she and I went out on our walks, and I have been singing this song to her for years. And as she drifts into a relaxed, sleepy state, she will hear me singing and she will know that I am present, and I believe my presence will be a comfort to her.”
And so I started singing my song, and so I kept singing our song over and over again and stroking her. And I kissed her forehead and I told her, “We will meet on the other side. I will meet you at the Rainbow Bridge.” So, after about five minutes, the veterinarian gave her the second shot, and he said, “She is in a better place.”
Today was my first full day following Gertie’s death. She’s living in the heart now. She will always be with me.