There was SO much to do in the weeks leading up to the move. I had a daily and weekly punch list mapped out to ensure I could make the most of every hour that I wasn’t working at my full-time job. It would’ve taken an Act of Dog to stop my forward momentum, and as it turned out, that’s exactly what happened.
While I prepped for travel, the house sale, the estate sale, and packing up the last 18 years of our lives, I did the same for our ~14-year-old rescue dog, Yolo.
I gathered the required documents for her travel to Spain (our arrival country) and France (our final destination). I’d rented a pet-friendly apartment with a terrace, so she could sunbathe or watch the birds while I worked. Her doggie luggage was already packed with food, treats, and toys… and she’d been training in her soft-sided airplane crate for carry-on travel.
Although she had no health issues, she also received all the required shots from a USDA-certified vet, to ensure she could avoid quarantine after arrival in the EU.
However, one morning she started panting and couldn’t catch her breath. We monitored her for a while then took her to the vet. They did an x-ray of her chest and noted that her heart was enlarged. It was putting pressure on her lungs, which resulted in trouble breathing. Then, it all happened so quickly. One minute she was with us and the next I was sobbing uncontrollably and saying goodbye to my adorable little shadow and our beloved family member.
We decided to take her remains home and bury them near our property line. She’d be adjacent to the neighbors she ADORED and also conveniently near the base of their grill (her favorite place to sneak off to while visiting their house). They’ve promised to keep an eye on her resting place (and leave some bacon offerings for her now and then).
I don’t know if it was all the change in the house, the stress of the move, or just incredibly bad luck that brought about her health issue when it did. I was (and still am) devastated to be without her, but knowing that she passed peacefully and is resting in her favorite spot brings me some semblance of comfort.
When I imagine what could have happened trying to deal with her health issue while on an airplane or with a vet who doesn’t speak English, I start to wonder if my ride-or-die knew she wasn’t up for the ride, so she made the call to go out on her terms.
When my time comes, I hope I’m able to do the same.
