From the mouths of babes . . . your daughter was so right. Somehow, the right one - or two - always wanders into your life at exactly the right time and makes a new place in your heart.
My Bear died in my arms, too, after a sudden, brief illness. I'd just gotten off the phone with the vet first thing in the morning and was throwing on some sweats to run down and get a shot to bring back and give him when he began to shake. I slid the last five feet down the hardwood floor of my foyer on my knees and gathered his head and shoulders up into my lap, tears streaming down my face. He gave me one last look and nuzzled his face into the crook of my arm, shuddered once and was gone - along with my heart. I sat there for an hour, just holding him and sobbing my heart out. To this day the tears stream when I think about it. He'd had a long life with me, ten years, and was probably four or five when I got him, but I wanted him to live forever.
I didn't think I could ever cry like that again, until Buffy was murdered. She had just turned two - she was born on Valentine's Day, and she died from antifreeze poisoning on April 4. I sat up with her all night the night before she died, while she slept with her head in my lap. The night she died, we both knew it was near the end. She went to the bed she'd slept in when she first came home. I went to tuck her in and she looked up at me with those eyes, so eloquent and full of love and understanding. Buffy was so tired, and she'd fought so hard to live, but she looked up at me as if to tell me she was sorry, she couldn't do anymore. I sat down with her, lay my head against hers and told her it I loved her so, but it was all right if she had to go, I understood. She died in her sleep. She fought so hard to live; the vet was amazed. It was so obvious that she'd been fed the poison purposely that he even stated that for her to get the dose she'd obviously had it would have to have been injected into a large piece of meat and given to her. How could anyone be so heartless? And we know who did it - a threat was made against her - when she was doing her job, bringing in some calves that had broken down the fence. She just couldn't resist the lure of fresh meat. The only thing that saved Bimmer is the fact that he won't eat anything that we don't give him or he doesn't catch himself. He still grieves for her; she was the love of his life. If he hears us talk about her, he'll look up and cry piteously. His whole outlook on life has changed so much since her death. He's much more serious, won't willingly let anyone but us touch him and keeps a sharp eye on Kharma and Shiva. He didn't take any joy in life or play until we brought Shiva home, and even then it took him a couple of weeks to accept her.