I had Brandy, my little mutt, from the time I was six years old. He was my little brother, and I loved him so!
When Brandy made it to the ripe old age of 18, my mom called me and told me something had to be done. He had been having strokes on and off for the past year, but they were mild, and within a few days, he was back to 'normal'. However, he was totally blind at this point and would follow my Golden Retriever around for her to lead him everywhere. He was happy, as we could figure, and still made his daily patrols of the farm, with Lady leading him.
He had a stroke overnight, and mom said he was in bad shape. I was living in an apartment that didn't allow dogs, so that's why he was still living on the farm. So I drove the hour home and made the decision that it was time...so off to the vets we go...me sobbing my heart out, my mom driving, and him laying in the backseat.
The staff was so great with him...and it killed me to let him go, but they let you know when it is time. I only wish we, as humans, could legally make that decision for ourselves and loved ones and ease so much suffering.
I dread the day I have to make that decision again, and I know it won't be too long with our Semmi. Her eyes are clouding up, but she is getting along rather well. She's had ten good years, I am hoping for a few more...Hubby is heading to Iraq next spring, and my fear is something will happen with her while he is gone. That will break his heart.
My thoughts and prayers are with you! You'll know...just be there to hold them when it is time.
*HUGS*
Stef