It's Time

I realize now that it’s time. 

Julie has an appointment tomorrow at the oncologist. But I don’t plan to bring her there. 


I’m going to take her to the vet and put her down. 


She doesn’t smell good — and I don’t think she smells dirty. I think she smells like death. I think the tumor is rotting. 


There are traces of blood on the carpet. 


She didn’t touch her food dish all weekend. I’m honestly not sure if she moved an inch over the weekend. The food dish is in the kitchen, on a ledge that requires a small jump, to deter raids from the dog. I’m not certain that she can make that jump today, or that she has the energy or desire to make it to another room. 


She looks like a mess, because she can’t clean herself. She doesn’t deserve to look like this.


And most critically, she doesn’t deserve to suffer because I’m not ready to say goodbye. 


Yes, it’s time. 

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