RIP McFeely

I didn’t know this was going to be the last photo of my sweet McFeely Jane, but she died later that night, with me by her side and Riker and the cats nearby.

I adopted her about six months before the pandemic hit. She spent her early years living beside a highway in rural Mexico before being picked up with a bad leg and eventually transferred to the Humane Society in Toronto. On the day I took her home, the HS employee crouched down to hug her and I overheard them whisper, “I found you a home.” Our home feels so much emptier without her.

She started having seizures last summer, but I gave her meds that made them fairly infrequent. She took another turn for the worse a few months ago, and we tried various meds to make her better, but nothing worked. Steroids gave us a little bit more time with her, but she was on a steady decline. I made a euthanasia appointment for her that was supposed to be today, not wanting her last days to be spent in pain and discomfort, but she decided to go on her own terms early Friday morning. I pet her and sang to her and told her how good and loved she was as she took her final breaths.

It’s a comfort to me that her last days were good. I almost considered changing the appointment she was doing so well. She was chasing squirrels in the backyard, stealing food off of the cupboard, lots and lots of snuggles. The whole family was together on her last night, cuddled up in my room watching shows.

It’s a lot of work taking care of an ailing dog. My time was structured around her pill schedule, but caring for her dragged me out of bed on many difficult mental health days. As my sister told me, “You and McFeely saved each other from despair in different ways.”

I miss my stubborn baby immensely. I miss her grumbles and her judgey side-eyes. She slept with me every single night. I contorted myself around her since she absolutely refused to move once she was comfortable. I even miss the sore body I often woke up with because of her.

I named her after Mister Rogers. McFeely was his middle name. His words and outlook have given me comfort over the years. Memories of my McFeely will do the same.

I’ll miss you forever baby girl. We didn’t have nearly enough time together, but I’m so grateful for the time we had. I hope that you and Kierkegaard are frolicking on the rainbow bridge together xoxo.

Published by

Lindsay B-e

writer-filmmaker-artist

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