On Thursday, Dec. 27, the day before he died, Linus had a day both ordinary and extraordinary. During the day, Linda played a lot of soothing music on the stereo, even though she usually didn’t bother with Ann’s “contraption”. She played Jessye Norman, Ella Fitzgerald, a gay men’s chorus, and, appropriately, the Peanuts Christmas album. Linda, Ann, Shwea and Linus spent the day together until 4:00, when Ann had to leave for a comedy show in Cambridge.

Since getting Linus into his cart was a two-person job, anytime one of us had to be away from home for a while we had to hire someone come over to help us “load” him into his wheels. Lately, that person has been yet another pet sitter named Melanie, and she came around twice to help Linda get Linus out and about. Her first visit was at meal time, when Linus ate, but not as much as he usually did. During Melanie’s last visit for the day, at “bed time” (around 8:30), Linus seemed tired—and worried. Linda wondered if he was worried about where Ann was, and after Melanie brought him inside and put him in his round bed in our bedroom, she patted his head and gave him some goodnight sweetness before she left.

Linda moved operations into the bedroom to keep Linus company, and put in a Hitchcock movie, “The Man Who Knew Too Much.” Then around 10:00, Linus threw up. Linda cleaned it up and thought that it might have been the baby aspirins she gave him before bed (they had been helping manage his night pain, but they also could upset his stomach). Besides, dogs do throw up, and it usually doesn’t mean much of anything.

Then about an hour later, Linus threw up again. He still seemed okay, like his stomach was just a little upset. But then he started panting and kept trying to sit up (he was having trouble with that of late), yet seemed better when he put his head down. Even though it was late, Linda stayed up with him, in case he got sick again. She offered him water, but he refused it. She just sat with him, rubbing his head and his belly, telling him he was okay.

Around 11:30 Linda noticed his muzzle was cold, and called Ann but she didn’t hear the phone. Ann called a little later, and promised she would be home as soon as she could. She also suggested Linda call the house call vet. (She did, but the vet didn’t hear the page.)

The vet probably wouldn’t have made a difference, in hindsight. By this time, Linus was having trouble breathing, and Linda knew he was on his way. She told him she loved him and that he was a good boy, kissed him on the head, and told him it was okay to leave. His body jerked twice, then he seemed glassy eyed, and his breath became very shallow. Once when he appeared to stop breathing, Linda touched his belly, and he began breathing again. Then, finally, at 12:40 a.m. on Friday morning, he stopped breathing altogether. Linda called Ann with the news, and they had a long cry together.

Ann arrived home around 1:30 a.m. and the crying began anew.