by PS Gifford

Created on: July 03, 2009   Last Updated: July 21, 2009

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life. I made the difficult decision to have my beloved Tasha- a gorgeous German shepherd/ Collie mix to sleep. She had been vomiting for the last couple of days and they had done all the tests on her. The results came back with about the worst possible news- her kidneys had failed. This meant that she was slowly- and painfully- being poisoned. I was told that they could flush out her system and she would live for a little while- but she would be in discomfort and we would soon be back to where we were now. I was gutted. However staring into her eyes I knew what decision I needed to make the kindest- albeit hardest- decision of all. To have her euthanized. I spent fifteen minutes saying my goodbyes- as did my wife and son. I did not have the strength to be there as they did it. I was already fighting back the tears. I did not want Tasha to see me cry. I don't know why.

It was as my wife drove me home that the tears- and complete and total anguish began. And as I write this tears are streaming down my face. First off it is hard to write anything without Tasha lying directly on my feet. That has been her spot for the last six years- and the times she has acted as my muse I could never figure. But when I found myself stuck in a middle of a story- I would read it to her. She would listen, with her ears cocked gazing up at me- and invariably the answer came- and I could continue writing.

Well today I feel that her story should be told. It is what she would have wanted.

When Tasha unexpectedly entered our life we already were owned by two dogs: Eddie and Chester whom I written so very much about. We were at a pet expo in nearby Costa Mesa. One of the building just happened to be where all the local rescues were displaying the dogs up for adoption. Naturally I wanted to go inside- but first I had to assure my wife that I just wanted to look. Besides we had travel plans to England in a couple of weeks- and getting a third dog would be sheer madness.

Now anyone who has been to a dog shelter knows what a heart breaking ordeal it can be- dozens upon dozens of dogs assembled- each one desperately vying for your attention. We made the rounds and with all the faces gazing up at us trying to get our attention. The first time we laid eyes on Tasha my heart began to beat a little faster. And my wife and son seemed equally enthralled by her. She had on a little cowboy hat- and one of the volunteers was rubbing her

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