(16th) I spent all this past weekend crying.
I awoke very early on Saturday, knowing that something was wrong. Elektra was huffing quite loudly and behaving oddly. I thought perhaps she had had a stroke (similar to my old family dog, Belle, back when I was still in high school). I debated calling the vet all day until they had closed; but Elektra seemed to be improving, until about midnight that night, when she had another episode. As I held her in my arms, I was certain she was gasping for her last breath. However, after several hours, she got up and seemed somewhat better.
I watched her all weekend, trying to decide what to do. (I am getting very tired of making these "life-and-death" decisions; but without Randy, I'm the only human left in this relationship to make decisions. I've heard about all those steps of grief that one goes through, and I must admit that the only time I feel "anger" associated with Randy's death, is when I have to make decisions like this all alone.) I spoke with all my friends and family, vacillating on what to do. But when all is said and done, I must acknowledge that Elektra's breathing is much more labored than it has ever been (she's had problems since the cancer surgery, three years ago), her eyesight and hearing are going, and she is more lethargic and many times just not quite "with it" anymore. I broke down and finally called the vet to make arrangements to have her put to sleep. It's much more humane to help her now than to wait for another attack, like this weekend, when she would surely suffer at the end.