Unanchored.

I am untethered. Adrift in a choppy sea. The last anchor I had to this place, to any place, was my nineteen year old Cocker Spaniel, Gracie.

Gracie died in my arms on Thursday night, not even one day after I told my roommate that I was pretty sure Gracie was going to leave us while she was in Mexico for her daughter's reception for five days. I had felt it coming for some time.

I had the forethought a couple of days before to dedicate more time and attention to her. I took her for long strolls, letting her set the pace and the direction. I brushed her soft buff fur on the front porch and hummed songs to her that I made up as I went along. Nevermind the fact that she had been deaf for years. I still talked to her all the time. Sang to her. We did manage to communicate with a few hand signals.

Her last day, something told me that this was it. I fed her blackberries, a few goldfish crackers, and bits of Vienna sausages. In the evening. I was speaking with my boyfriend on video chat. I was expressing my concern over her breathing and showed R*. He said, "Get on the floor with her, or hold her. She needs you right now."

I had, in recent weeks, been picking her up and holding her. This was something she was not accustomed to. At first, she would tremble and struggle to get down, but after a few cuddles, she learned to relax into it. Thursday night, as I picked her up and held her against my chest, she repeatedly licked my face, and her eyes looked so sad. I said over and over, "I love you. I love you."

We went to bed, and R* had warned me that she was probably going to be restless, but I needed to try to sleep. Just as I started to drift off, Gracie was stumbling around under my bed, which was highly unusual. I turned the light on and got on the floor. Gracie came out and collapsed into my lap.

I immediately called R* and begged him to help me. He said, "Sweetheart, just be with her, and tell her you love her and that it's okay to go."

I was stroking her chest from underneath and could feel her heartbeat softening. I kissed her on her head and told her, "It's okay. I will be okay now. Go be with mom and dad. They are waiting for you. I love you. Thank you for saving my life."

And with that, she gasped one more time and went limp in my arms.

R* was still on the phone with me. I wailed and screamed as loud as I could. My last thread of stability had left me. I didn't want her to come back to me, though. That would be pure selfishness. She had decided that I did not need her anymore, that I was in good hands, on a good path, and transitioned out of this realm and into the next.

And I am left feeling so incredibly lost without her.