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| Final moments with my dog. |
Exactly
four weeks ago today, I sat in a room at the veterinarian’s office while she
gently told me that my dog did not have long to live. This afternoon, the same
(pregnant) vet got down on the floor beside me and administered the drug that
would send my ten year old Scamp to Heaven.
As
I sit here now, with swollen eyes and throbbing head, it seems impossible.
Scamp was always healthy, with boundless energy and a mischievous spirit. Looking
back, there were some subtle signs. Maybe a year or so ago, he began suffering
from occasional nausea. I wasn’t really concerned; after all he was constantly
foraging for things he shouldn’t be eating – cat poop from the litter box,
tidbits he found while rooting around the yard, delicacies from the trash can…
Not to mention that he inhaled his food, and was on constant alert for morsels
accidentally dropped by the humans. Before we could stoop down to pick up
whatever fell on the floor, this dog would have darted across the room and
consumed it.
One
day I noticed that his gum seemed swollen. Assuming it was an abscessed tooth, I
made an appointment for him. I figured that after some antibiotics and minor
surgery to remove the tooth, all would be fine.
On
our first visit to the clinic, she felt his jaw and her face changed. She commented
that it almost felt like there was a growth under his gum rather than
infection. She added that if it did happen to be oral cancer, the outlook would
not be good. Upon hearing these words, I blew them off. Of course my dog did
not have cancer. He was going to be as good as new. When they looked inside his
gum, they would only find stuff that could be easily fixed.
They
went ahead and drew blood for pre-surgery testing, which dealt another harsh blow.
His BUN and creatinine levels were very high, revealing that his kidneys were
not functioning well. We went ahead and scheduled the surgery, with the
understanding that I would bring him in 24 hours ahead of time so that they
could try to bring his numbers down with IV fluids.
The
day the surgery was scheduled, I waited anxiously to hear the results. When the
call finally came, the veterinarian suggested that I come in and discuss
matters face to face. They had actually not performed the operation. There was
no improvement in Scamps’s kidney function, and the X-rays they took did nothing
to brighten his prognosis. I was able to see the films for myself, and compare
the good side and the bad side. The good side looked like you would expect a
dog’s jaw to look – teeth lined up evenly and smooth, porous bone. The other
side was another story. Instead of being an even shade of color, this bone looked
as though someone had spilled dark ink inside it. Tooth roots had been shoved
out of the way to make room for the black hole that was growing. Even I had to
admit that this was not good. She stated that her best guess was that this was
a very aggressive form of cancer. She added that they could proceed with the
surgery and verify what it was; there was a slight chance that it could merely
be a serious infection that could possibly be stopped. However, his kidney
function did not make him a good candidate to receive anesthesia. I chose to
bring him home rather than take the chance that the necessary drugs could kill
him. I was warned that in about three weeks, his kidneys would probably stop
working altogether.
We
went home armed with antibiotics, anti-nausea medication, bags of Lactated
Ringer’s, IV tubing, and special dog food. I had retired from the workforce (earlier than planned)
only a month before, and I praised God for that. He obviously knew that I would
need/want time to devote to my dog and care for him as best I could. I was
somewhat distressed by the big dent these expenses had made to my oh-so-carefully
put together nest egg. Then I realized that if not for retirement, I would not
have saved that money. Another praise.
Things
went well for the first couple of weeks. I researched diets for canines with
kidney failure and cancer, and began preparing fresh meals for Scamp and Neo,
my 15 year old dog. Suddenly, Scamp rebelled against the subcutaneous fluid
drips he was getting twice a day. Unable to force the issue on my own, I
figured that when Roger got home, he could help me. When the weekend came,
however, Scamp seemed fine. He was drinking lots of water on his own without
getting sick, so we decided to forego the drips for the time being. Our
reasoning was that if he did not have long to live, we wouldn’t subject him to
something that he hated so much, especially since his overall health didn’t
seem to be affected either way.
Sadly
though, the lump in his jaw was steadily growing. He drooled almost constantly,
and when he ate, a lot of food would end up on the floor. I had no doubt that
the doc’s cancer diagnosis was right on. A few times it would bleed, enough to
make me concerned for his welfare. He also began to balk about drinking. I knew
I needed to make that phone call, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. For the
most part, this dog still loved life. He dug into his meals with gusto, chased
cats, and basked in the attention he was getting. I had deep conversations with
him, and we discussed his health, our future and the options we had. I’m
convinced that he understood when I explained that we needed to send him back
to Jesus soon, before he got to the point to where he did not want to live. I
remember one of our walks around the yard… he walked and explored much longer
than usual, seeming to contemplate that it might be the last time he ever saw
those things. I prayed, asking God for guidance. I wanted my dog to have all
the time he could, yet I knew that it would only get worse, and I did not want
him to reach the point of suffering. This morning, after repeating my prayer,
Scamp yawned. I was able to get a good look inside his mouth. Not only was the
hideous tumor growing out the side of his mouth, it was also growing inward.
About a fourth of his throat was blocked by the mass. Realizing that if I did nothing
he could slowly suffocate, I was forced to act. I got the appointment for as
late in the day as I could, so that we might enjoy our last afternoon. We
cuddled on the floor, and then we went on an “adventure”. I always walked Scamp
and Neo together. Due to Neo’s infirmities, our walks were usually limited to
the yard, but occasionally we would walk alongside the road and go to the end
of our block. Both boys always found this immensely exciting, as they did this
afternoon.
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| After his last bath. |
The
drainage from his mouth made Scamp’s fur a constant stiff mess, so I washed and
brushed him one last time, burying my face in his sweet softness. He was so
excited when he realized we were going in the car. Our first stop was McDonald’s,
where he got a cheeseburger, and then we went to the dog park so he could eat
it. While there, we met an angel. A sweet young girl was there with two dogs,
and she chatted with us. Seeing Scamp’s mouth, she asked if we had just come
from the vet. When I told her what was going on, she showed heartwarming
compassion. As Scamp finished his cheeseburger, she went to her car and came
back with a packet of moist dog food. She said she used the pieces of food for
treats, and offered the little bag to Scamp. After watching him eat a few
pieces, she said she would leave us to our time alone and packed up her dogs
and left. My heart was truly warmed by her kindness.
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| Yummy cheeseburger! |
I
was showered with kindness at the vet’s office as well. Right after I made the
appointment, I had realized that I had no pictures of Scamp and me together. I
had been attempting to take selfies all day, but had been unsuccessful. I asked
the tech if she would mind taking one of us. She actually took ten separate
shots, and then had me look through them to make sure I had what I wanted. The
procedure was explained to us, and we were left alone for a few minutes. No one
made me feel rushed. After it was over, when his lifeless body lay in my arms,
the veterinarian sat with me for a few moments, stroking his fur before leaving
me alone to say my final goodbyes.
As
I have done with previous dogs, I asked for a private cremation and to have his
cremains returned to me.
Besides
the grief of losing another one of my furry family members, I worry about how
this loss will affect Neo. Although these two have had strife over the Alpha
Dog title in the past, Neo does not like that his pack is gone now. While Scamp
was in the hospital, Neo did not do well. He was listless most of the time, and
had to be coaxed to eat and drink. When Scamp came home, the two dogs lay back
to back the rest of the evening. Today when I came home, I found Neo lying with
his head on the cushion that Scamp had been sleeping on. I had been talking to
him as well, explaining why Scamp would not be coming home with me.
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| Savoring his burger. |
I
am trusting God… I know that He will be taking Neo one day. I have been blessed
to have him this long. I have also been so blessed by my family and friends
through all this. Roger has been sharing my pain – he loves all the dogs he
acquired when he married me. He is on the road right now, but is still a
comfort to me, even though his own soul is weeping. My children have sent their
love, and the compassion of my facebook friends is sustaining me and soothing
my heart. I am so grateful to everyone.
Life
goes on. I hold fast to the hope that I will see this beloved animal again in
Heaven.
Many
people don’t understand the concept of holding on to the cremains of a loved
one. After all, the ashes are merely the residue of the outer shell; they
contain no life or awareness. When the urn houses the remains of a beloved pet,
even more people will shake their heads and often make insensitive remarks.
