13 years 6 months*

Logically
Bones had been sick and deteriorating for well over a year now. We've known it was coming and been preparing for it. She spent most of her life at a very athletic 46 pounds; last night she was 27. Even with the most aggressive treatment possible, her chances of recovery and any quality of life were very slim. She could barely walk and was minimally responsive. She seemed to have given up fighting the last couple of days, curling up in the back of her house, refusing to come out, and apparently ready to accept the inevitable. Everyone agreed this was the right decision.

Emotionally
Death should be natural and happen in its own time; you shouldn't make an appointment for it and schedule it into a calendar. Her happiness and well-being was our responsibility, as she was dependent on us for her shelter, food, care, and everything else and she trusted us completely, yet we sat beside her today and made this happen. She wasn't capable of telling us what she wanted or if she preferred to fight. We would have pursued every possible option for a person, and who are we to decide that her life is worth less than that? Add to it that this is tapping into a lot of other swallowed grief waiting just below the surface, and this has been immeasurably hard.

We both ended up taking the day off to deal and comfort each other, spend extra time valuing Duncan, and get away from having to cope with the rest of life. It sucks.

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*We missed only the first 6 weeks.