I'm not sad about Sogria. I want you all to know that. It was time.
Perhaps the most comforting part of yesterday was that our wonderful vet came to our house. Molly hated the vet's office. Every time that I would take her there for vaccinations or to get medicine for her skin or ears, she would be extremely agitated and attempt to get out. When I spoke to the vet yesterday morning about Molly's end of life, I asked him if he could come to us. His answer was an immediate, "Absolutely."
As a result, Molly got to hobble down to the fish pond with me, smell the ever-decreasing warren of rabbits (thanks to White Dragon), and sniff at the pears that have dropped on the ground. As we did this I watched her left rear leg give out six times. She barely greeted our vet when he came in the house. She didn't get up but just lifted her head with a lame wooo-wooo. It was easy. It was peaceful. I am at ease that I gave a good life to a good dog who was mistreated and neglected by others.
White Dragon? She's moping.