We had to let our poor American Eskimo go when we came home from work and found her crying in her own mess. She could no longer get up and she had cancerous lumps on her neck and face. It was time.
We cleaned her up, gave her a huge meal of her favorite foods (another Cushing's pup who was ravenous to the end), had her family and friends come over to say good bye (two of our kids are out of the house, and the neighbors knew her, too), then took her to the vet. It was hard, but it was the right thing to do.
Christine
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
Cycle! It's Good for the Wattle; it's good for the can!