Goodnight, Sweet Gracie.

I am sitting here in quiet reflection, and time seems to be standing still. The responsibility of a life entrusted to me feels especially heavy today.

For more than a month, I tried to nurse Gracie back to health. There were examinations, bloodwork, imaging, medications, assisted feedings, and an overnight ER stay last week to stabilize her.

I did everything I could. And $4,436 later, I still feel I should have been able to do more.

Last night, afraid she could not wait until Monday’s follow-up, I took her to VCA’s last available urgent-care appointment. I went hoping for a treatment plan. The veterinarian explained that her liver was failing and that even another day would mean more suffering.

I said Goodbye to Gracie last night. She is free from her suffering now. I am still trying to make peace with the decision I understood I had to make.

When I called her family to let them know, they met me with kindness at a moment when I was so afraid they would be angry and feel I had failed her. So often, despite the charitable work that I do, I am met with with rage. I think sometimes people don't have anywhere else for it to go. So it spills over onto me despite my best efforts to help. They were nothing but gracious and understanding. I asked them if they would like her to be cremated or if they would prefer she be buried at the sanctuary. They chose for Gracie to be buried here, because I had cared for her until the end, they felt this was where she belonged to rest in peace.

Gracie had two devoted protectors here, too: Dusty and Honey.

Before she became so unwell, they mostly romped together in the loft and gave her space. As she grew weaker, they stayed close. For these last few weeks, wherever Gracie went, they went. They stood guard like sphinxes facing her bedroom door, warning the others to keep their distance.

They were her protectors.

Today, Honey won’t leave her bed. Dusty keeps wandering, looking, as though searching for Gracie. I wonder what they know, what they can sense, and whether they are waiting for her, could they be greiving too?

Colleen, Stephen, Cynthia, Elizabeth, and Michael were among those who helped with her feedings and medication if they happened to be here during that time. And Colleen and Cynthia helped multiple times with grooming. I am grateful to everyone who lent a hand, and to those whose donations helped make part of her care possible.

I am waiting for my neighbor Shawn to come help me prepare her burial site. Writing this entry is the only thing I can seem to do. Everything else feels suspended until I can lay her gently to rest.

And moments like this make me miss my Bella Bear almost unbearably.

Through life’s hardest challenges, she always made everything easier to bear simply by being beside me. Today, I ache for that familiar comfort. I wish she were here to help me through this goodbye. Losing Gracie has brought me back to the grief of losing her, too.

I am trying to remember that caring for Gracie included protecting her from suffering when we could no longer make her well.

Sweet Gracie, I hope being here with me made your hardest days a little easier, the way Bella Bear always made mine.

You were loved through your last breath. You are loved still.

Rest gently, sweet Gracie, among the Joshua trees, the butterflies, and the songs of the birds. May this garden be your little heaven on earth, warmed by the desert sun and tended with love.