kann
One Leg Of Fury.
Yesterday my wife called me to tell me that our dog, Dolby, came into the room where she was working, laid down next to her, and pretty much became unresponsive. She took him right to the animal hospital where they found internal bleeding from his spleen. Cancer.
They could have removed the spleen, but she said in 90% of the cases like this it is already advanced and will just recur in 3-6 months, at which point there will be absolutely nothing further to do besides agonizing chemotherapy. I asked her, "So, he's going to go through this trauma only to have the cancer come back right about the time he is finally healing from the surgery, and he's still going to die painfully within the year?"
She looked straight at us, teared up, and said, simply, "Yes". Even though we had changed vets, this doc still performed surgery on him in the past and knew him well. Dolby was just a dog you couldn't help but love, because he loved you first.
I would have paid anything if it was something that could be repaired surgically, no matter how invasive or how hard the recovery. They couldn't fix him this time.
My wife and I made the hard decision and then went to pick our girls up from school. They did not take the news well, as can be expected. We all returned to the hospital to be with him one last time. When they brought him back into the room, he had already deteriorated so much more from when my wife and I left him just about an hour before. He could no longer hold his head up on his own. He could still wag his tail, though, as we all loved on him and said our goodbyes. I stayed in the room with him while the rest of the family waited outside. I made the decision to take his life, so I owed it to him to watch the whole thing and to be there with him to the very end. I laid down on the floor with him, looked into his eyes, and he died with his head in my hands, petting his fur as he left.
It's the hardest, most painful decision I've ever had to make, and even though I know it was the right thing to do for him, I'll question that 10% possibility of saving him every day. Part of our family is missing this morning. He didn't sleep on the side of our bed like always last night. He didn't make his rounds of the house like every other evening prior, pushing open each bedroom door to check on the kids before finally going to sleep himself. No more squeaking mustaches or wet noses on my face waking me up to take him outside. Part of me is broken this morning. As bad as it sounds, I don't even think I really cried when my mother passed away. I haven't been able to turn off this faucet since we resolved on what had to be done yesterday afternoon. We may eventually get another dog, but I think you are only blessed with one friend like this in your lifetime. I'm not the only one who has ever lost a pet, I know. This is harder than I ever imagined it could be, though.
Dolby's very first photo as part of our family in 2004
Our final photo together yesterday
They could have removed the spleen, but she said in 90% of the cases like this it is already advanced and will just recur in 3-6 months, at which point there will be absolutely nothing further to do besides agonizing chemotherapy. I asked her, "So, he's going to go through this trauma only to have the cancer come back right about the time he is finally healing from the surgery, and he's still going to die painfully within the year?"
She looked straight at us, teared up, and said, simply, "Yes". Even though we had changed vets, this doc still performed surgery on him in the past and knew him well. Dolby was just a dog you couldn't help but love, because he loved you first.
I would have paid anything if it was something that could be repaired surgically, no matter how invasive or how hard the recovery. They couldn't fix him this time.
My wife and I made the hard decision and then went to pick our girls up from school. They did not take the news well, as can be expected. We all returned to the hospital to be with him one last time. When they brought him back into the room, he had already deteriorated so much more from when my wife and I left him just about an hour before. He could no longer hold his head up on his own. He could still wag his tail, though, as we all loved on him and said our goodbyes. I stayed in the room with him while the rest of the family waited outside. I made the decision to take his life, so I owed it to him to watch the whole thing and to be there with him to the very end. I laid down on the floor with him, looked into his eyes, and he died with his head in my hands, petting his fur as he left.
It's the hardest, most painful decision I've ever had to make, and even though I know it was the right thing to do for him, I'll question that 10% possibility of saving him every day. Part of our family is missing this morning. He didn't sleep on the side of our bed like always last night. He didn't make his rounds of the house like every other evening prior, pushing open each bedroom door to check on the kids before finally going to sleep himself. No more squeaking mustaches or wet noses on my face waking me up to take him outside. Part of me is broken this morning. As bad as it sounds, I don't even think I really cried when my mother passed away. I haven't been able to turn off this faucet since we resolved on what had to be done yesterday afternoon. We may eventually get another dog, but I think you are only blessed with one friend like this in your lifetime. I'm not the only one who has ever lost a pet, I know. This is harder than I ever imagined it could be, though.
Dolby's very first photo as part of our family in 2004
Our final photo together yesterday
) we still had Porter, but we were not ready for another. But a few weeks after, I was at the fence with my neighbor, who self admittedly knew nothing of dogs - never had one, never grew up with one. He looked right at me and asked when we were getting Porter a puppy since he was lost without Amber. He saw it, but we didn't - in our grief we did not see his. I made arrangements and had Ruby shortly thereafter. I thought we were not ready, but it was the best decision we made. It may not seem right, but once you do it, it really helps. It's not replacing either... just adding another family member.
