Its been a while, huh. I made it through my 21 day sugar detox. I ate some M&Ms this week after I finished. What goes up…
The main reason I’m writing though is because we lost Pup today.
Up until yesterday, he had been doing well. He’d still bark at anything with a face crossing in front of our property. He’d still launch himself at the door whenever the doorbell rang. He was still eating, drinking, pooping, and chasing the cat but maybe with a little less of a spring in his step.
The veterinary oncologist (a profession I was unaware of until a few months ago) told me that this is likely how it would happen. He’d be pretty good until he wasn’t – and that would be a pretty quick and steep drop. As trite as it sounds, I’m just relieved that he didn’t suffer. His decline happened literally overnight.
We’d noticed he was favoring one of his hind legs over the past couple of days but at 15, he’s been a little stiff for a while. Last night at 2am, he was restless. He was whining and it seemed like he couldn’t get comfortable. This morning, he was dragging his hind legs. He’d get them up for a moment, but was wobbly and uncoordinated. He couldn’t make it more than a few feet without laying down. I called the vet who agreed that it was probably time.
On the way to the vet, I tried to soak in every detail of him. The tiny, delicate wisps on his snout, the occasional white hair peppered on his head, his bendy paws, the thick scruff around his neck, his cloudy, soul swallowing eyes, his tumor area – roiling with heat and density. I went through every tissue and napkin in my husband’s glove box.
I like our vet’s office. We were greeted with solemnity and felt supported by the staff. We had brought his pillow for him to lay on. When it was time for the first injection, I crouched down right by his little face. He can’t see well, so I wanted to make sure he could smell me, hear me, feel my presence. I stroked his head. I thanked him and told him I love him. I repeated this through the second injection and could clearly see when he left. I cannot explain it. I nodded and then the doctor checked and nodded. It was a powerful moment that I will never forget. As painful as it was, I felt honored to give comfort and bear witness. He was so important to me. He will always be a part of my story. I’ll go into it sometime, but he saved me as much as I saved him.
In the mean time, I am exhausted at a soul level. I barely have energy to type this. But I wanted to document this.