That's one of the first nicknames Mojo ever had, bestowed upon her by my husband. So many others followed-Mojo Pin, Bones, Marilyn (for Marilyn Manson, thanks to her freaky blue eye), JoJo...
Now she is gone.
It was too much-her arthritis was worsening seemingly by the day, no matter how many drugs/supplements we threw at it. The cold was so very hard on her. As soon as we took her off the prednisone, tumors began appearing around her neck, and last week, she would often cough and was having trouble swallowing anything but the cooked chicken I made for her. Thursday night she woke me up many times with her cough. Friday morning she would only eat if I hand fed her. Kyle and I took her and the Goldens for a final walk, and then we took her to the vet in the afternoon.
She slipped away so peacefully. She was ready, just laying her head down and going to sleep. Of course, that's when I lost it; my dog was dying, and I was doing it to her. I howled like a banshee, but by then she was gone. It was the hardest thing I've ever done.
I know it was for the best, of course, I'm not delusional. Still, I miss her so, so much. She is in a place that I don't know. Is it even a place? I'm not with her. I can't keep her safe.
The Goldens know something is amiss. As I type, Lebowski is laying on the deck, looking out towards the backyard, looking for...something, I think. He rarely leaves my side.
Anyway, everyone has been wonderful, especially Kyle. I'm not posting this for sympathy comments, though of course I love hearing from anyone who reads me. I just wanted to write something for her, to acknowledge that she existed, lived, and was so, so loved.
Goodnight, Jones. Life will go on without you, yes, but it will not be the same. You were special. You were my girl.