Compartments + Feelings = Shit in Plan B

I am reallllly trying to put wrap my head around what I am about to do tomorrow. I am putting my best of the best down tomorrow. WTF? She is now laying in the bathroom on the floor. She has never ever ever ever done that in her life since I have had her. If she was human ( she is better than a human ) we would be giving her morphine and having hospice in the house taking care also instead of me. Me only. Romeo knows something is going on but dosn’t. He isn’t that bright but he knows something is working and it isn’t positive.
Casie Marie can’t find a comfortable spot. When your old you don’t. Your heart has been beating you have been breathing ( no matter how crappy) your veins are still workin and you feel like shit. Your bones hurt. She feels like shit. She is not who she use to be. And for me to continue on like this is cruel and mean. I came home from my second client and she got the bed room door open and was stuck between the bedroom side table and the wall hyperventlating. Again her tongue was black. Once I got cooled down somewhat I gave her water ( she hasn’t ate in bascially 24 hours ) and some benedryl just to chill her out and let her rest for 20 minutes.
My sadness is so overwhelming. It makes me stop. Just fucking stop. I love the shit out of her. We have a history together like no one else. No one. Human or otherwise. I have met half ( more than half ) my town thru her. From drinking out paint brush water - Diane an artist painting on a mural at a local bar - to Jon and his Jack Russel - Maddy who Casie loves but she hated Casie. We both figured out it was jeliously. Ppppplease. Casie is much more beautiful and we both know it. She gets compliments no matter where she goes. We go to the town post office every single day “just to get a treat”. Back in the day if the price tags were on the item Casie would lick them off. Every single one. Then I would tell the owner and he would make new ones up. Never once mad or angry. I told him to keep his higher priced items up on the second shelf. Her legs are too short to reach them. Then she would stop at the front counter and go up very gingerly and see what crumbs may have fallen and eat them. No one ever refused Casie Marie. She was aloud to go behind the post office and look for new treats that were “hidden just for her” and no one else. She has gone in houses, restraunts ( meatballs, hotdogs, beer, salami ) wherever and she was welcomed. Court yards, tea houses, stages oh yes....nothing fancy. I never dress her up. Please? She has class. She has style. She has eye liner on too permanently. That is the chow in her. My heart is fucking sad. She is alseep on the bathroom floor which is so not her - never once has she been in the bathroom unless to get a bubbles and I am not going to wake her up with my tears. She is actually sleeping. Sleeping. I checked her breathing. I know with my logical sense I am “doing the right thing” but the emotional side of me is saying - ” This is fucked” and it is. I am a control freak and have been told that several times ( when you grow up in an alcholic household it’s normal ) but this is one thing I don’t want to take control of. I want someone else to do. But fuck it. She is my girl and she is going to go in diginity and grace. I would never allow her to deficate on herself or loose kidneys. No. Please don’t do that to me either. We are walking with a towel over her belly. Just to get her back legs going with her front. This is fucked up and it is not how she wants to be either. I know we will be together again. I am not religious even tho I am a practicing Buddhist I know things go round and round and she will too. Who knows she will manifest herself into a higher being. I will be with her again on a higher plain without pain or fear and be filled with love. Love dosn’t stop just because the other person or dog or cat,bird or ferret has moved on. It just gets suspended. It’s still there and always will be like air but you the ego self is no longer a part of it and that is what hurts the most. Your pets are the reflection of you. My soul aches. No amount of alchol is going to solve this “feeling”....