Goodnight Princess.

She stood up with a grace that we hadn’t seen in weeks and walked over to her pillow. Curling up into her old familiar position, the medicine erased the discomfort caused by her swelling. With little effort her head hit the pillow and she fell into a deep sleep.  

Charlie had been sitting on the floor close to her, reaching over her body he laid his head upon her chest.  He was crying. Karen was crying. I was crying too because our Moose was dying. It was time to say goodbye and none of us were ready for it.

The second injection was just as quick as the first, but this time instead of falling asleep, Moose's brain turned off and her heart stopped. My son strained to listen to each final beat, as we all sat silent except for our tears. After a brief pause, he let us know that her heart was quiet. She was gone, and in the silence I could not believe how quickly we had reached this moment.  

Weeks before she had been diagnosed with liver cancer, weeks before that, I had noticed she was bloated. Never. Never, could I have imagined that our grand lady was near her end or that she would fill so full of fluid that we would have to drain her regularly. We did it three times - and she hated it each time. The trip to the vet, the hand-off as they reached the back room.  

I’ve never known such genuine love from an animal until that moment when all ninety pounds of her would cower under my chair pleading for protection, begging for support. In all of it I was powerless - I could barely understand what was going on let alone translate it in a manner that she could understand.

I’ve posted many things that are close to my heart - but I have had little appetite to share this news. Moose was something special to us as a family and more so as my partner in the bog and blind. I tried to keep her passing to myself but Facebook would not let it go - you never realize how many things you've shared with Facebook until their algorithm reminds you of those special moments. 

We shared a lot of special moments in the fall, and Facebook mercilessly shared each of them with me.

Her lose has made it difficult to blog this season - she was so much apart of me and the hunts that we shared together. I've ignored writing this post, terrified of this post, because this was validation that I really had to say goodbye. While I was chasing the ducks and the geese it simply did not feel right to let her go.

I understand that pets will pass, but we were not ready for Moose. I'm still not ready, but with the season ending soon it’s time I find solace in the good, and share those amazing moments with you all (again). I’ll readily admit this post has been aided by an empty belly and a full mug of brew, aptly named “Duck Pond”.

To my big dog with an even bigger heart— I raise my glass to you. I will remember you in the crispness of an early fall morning, when I hear the rustling of wings flying overhead, and as the geese circle our decoys with wings cupped well below the brim.

Love you Princess.  Goodbye.