This is a poem Ickle posted a little while ago that helped us though Poppy's last days and just after
If It Should Be
If it be I grow frail and weak,
And pain should wake me from my sleep
Then you must do what must be done,
For this last battle can't be won.
You will be sad, I understand,
Don't let grief then stay your hand,
For this day, more than all the rest,
Your love and friendship stand the test.
We've had so many happy years,
What is to come will hold no fears,
You'd not want me to suffer, so
When the time comes - please let me go.
Take me where my needs they'll tend,
Only stay with me till the end,
And hold me firm and speak to me,
Until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you too will see,
It is a kindness you do me,
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I've been saved
Do not; grieve that it should be you,
Who has, to decide this thing to do,
We've been so close-we three these years
Don't let your heart hold any tears.