Last morning, the power was gone. He wanted to, but standing up was not an option anymore. His hind legs were too weak to carry. I picked him up and brought him outside so that he could relieve himself. He hung like a sack of old bones, but with enough stance to let me know that he didn’t fully agree with airborne travel. I brought him in again, cleaned him, lay him on a clean towel and gave him some water. He didn’t even lift his head for that.
The complimentary rabbit skull was ignored.
The other two knew. She lay by him for the bigger part of the day and watched over us. He came and went, it’s how he works and cares.
That evening it was time.
He had some spurts during the day, but the message was clear. He didn’t have the power anymore, and it was time to rest. With everything he lived through before us, it is a gift that he stayed who he was and for such a long time. The calm, friendly big fuzzball who did know how to wolf sometimes.
The doc came, shaved a bit of fur of his leg. She was keeping an eye on everything, monitoring that all went well. He held his head high, looking around once more. As the first dose started working, he slowly lay down without losing his posture. In the afternoon he was also asleep for a while. In his dream he was running, his legs kicking. It was the most his hindlegs moved all day and it was in the best of ways.
As the second dose started coursing through his veins, the relaxed breathing started to fade. From sleep till more. Almost an invisible transition, just slipping into the deepest sleep.
Afterward, as I sat next to him and lifted his lifeles head I noticed the difference. I realized how much strength there used to be in those stubborn old bones. The husk was empty and that strength was not needed anymore. For the rest of the chase, he can finally run free.