It is 8:15 AM and Squig is still asleep under the covers.  We had had a horrible weekend.  He was up both Friday and Saturday nights over over again all night long.  He couldn’t keep anything down. Six different times on Saturday night he went outside and threw up.  Nausea is the worst.

I went to church Sunday morning expecting to find him ready to leave me for heaven before I got back, but he threw up one more time and has been fine since.  Tired, weary and sleeping.  I was afraid this morning would be the day we went to see the Vet for the last time.  But he only got up once last night.  Thank God...I didn’t sleep those two nights much either.

Our last dog, Beau, gave me notice when he was ready to go.  He had epilepsy, and when medication wouldn't help any more, and his seizures were constant, it was time.  He went peaceful while I was rubbing his back--at the vet.  It was a relief.  Watching a dog suffer when you can’t help it is agony.  You don’t know what to do.  Over and over you ask, “Is it now...or should I wait?”  It would be easier if dogs could talk!

But last night, Squig only got up once.  Such a relief.  I was able to sleep.  He was able to sleep.  I’ll take him back in to the vet this week to weigh him.  He’s already gone down from 12.4 to 10.2 which is a huge amount for such a small dog.  We are spending these last few days--weeks?--doing whatever he wants to do.  Rubbing his belly or scratching his back seems to be his first choices.