Went to see Dr. Isaacson yesterday to have a couple of moles or skin tags removed. Pretty simple. I weighed in on the scales at a svelte 237 lbs. Yikes!! Dr. Isaacson told me that at my age I really need to lose some weight. He said he'd like to see me at 198. I told him that I weighed in heavy because I had my keys in my pocket; he asked to see my 40 pound car key. So, I've got to cut 40 lbs.



On a different note--I had a sad moment this morning. I was taking Edgar (our St. Bernard) out to the kennel. I let him go to the bathroom in the backyard first. He went back to where we buried KC (our 14 year old lab) and just sniffed around. Then he looked up at me with a very sad face. I know St. Bernards have a typically sad expression anyway, so maybe I'm reading into it. But, it brought back memories about KC.



We put her down last month (Dec. 10, 2003). Near the end, she was in constant pain from arthritis. We gave her aspirin and it only took the pain away for about an hour-then she'd be down again. She also became incontinent and had several potty accidents. She'd break out into shiver fits where she'd shiver uncontrollably and her teeth would chatter.



It was hard to do, but it needed to be done. Eric and I were with her when they gave her the injection. It just took a few seconds for her to lose consciousness and about a minute for her heart to stop. I thought it was pretty peaceful; Eric thought it was "scary" because she didn't close her eyes. I told him that of all the ways she could have died, this was the most painless. She could have had a stroke, a heart attack, slip down the stairs and break her neck or leg, get hit by a car that she couldn't hear coming, etc. Eric doesn't deal with death very well. I'm proud of him for staying in there because it was hard.



Shannon cried a little bit too. Marlee was mostly upset because her mom and brother were crying. I buried KC in the far corner of the back yard. All in all it was a pretty low night around our house. Edgar kept roaming from room to room looking for her. I think he could sense her loss too.



I had my big cry the next morning in the shower. My head still tells me it was the right thing to do, but my heart hurts because I was the one who chose this for her. She didn't go on her terms or God's terms--she went on mine, and so inside I question whether or not she understood that I was trying to do what was best for her. She trusted me to take care of her for 14 years and for all those years I did take care of her. I was the one who picked her out at the pound when she was just a pup and mine was the last face she saw as we let her go that night. But nothing ever likes to die.



Some might say that this is the reason why they don't ever have pets, but our grief will pass and be tempered by 14 years of great memories. She was a good dog.