More Merlot.
I still tease her about her weight â call her Tons Oâ Fun as she staggers around the house. I still make her sit for her bowl, and I get her to do tricks when she doesnât seem too tired. I got fresh batteries for her laser pointer â she used to try and attack it like a kitten. Now, she has about 30 â 45 seconds of playing in her before she needs to rest.
When she is a little feverish, I give her a baby aspirin in a treat â sometimes a dab of cream cheese, sometimes peanut butter. Last night it was half a Bing cherry she was eyeballing as I ate.
When she has a good day, we go for walks and I let her set the pace & direction. I avoid one street as there is an angry-sounding dog that always scares her. When she has a bad day, I lay down near her and stroke her ears, her snout, her swollen belly.
I drive home on my lunch break to let her outside. The steroids make her drink more, pee more, and it is cruel to make her hold it for the full day while I am at work. She greets me eagerly at the door, goes immediately out in the yard, and laboriously climbs the stairs to come back inside. The entire exchange seems to wear her out and she half-reclines, half-collapses in the dining room floor. The collapsing thing is just her way of lowering herself to the floor. It is terrifying to hear on a hardwood floor â sounds like someone dumping a box of hammers out. It isnât new â she started doing it when she was about a year old â but with her added weight it is particularly startling.
She doesnât crawl into bed with me much anymore. The other morning, Mick & I were dozing when she crawled up there and half-draped herself over my hip, gazing adoringly at Mick. I snuggled with her for a while, until she was over it and crawled back off the bed. This morning as I was getting dressed for work, she crawled up there and watched me with huge eyes, ears at a mellow relaxed angle. She was breathing heavily just from getting up there.
Iâm trying to behave normally and relish these last few days with her. Shawn & Heather came over last night â we sat on the back porch and enjoyed a beautiful evening with Merlot.
Our appointment with the vet is Wednesday evening. I have the unsavory task ahead of having to dig her grave tomorrow night - I was going to start it tonight but spent time with her instead. Took her to a friend's house who has a large dog and a baby. Merlot was able to give Oliver kisses - the baby was delighted as the family dog is standoffish and doesn't like to be touched. Oliver kept touching her as she passed and finally got to NOM on her floppy ear, one pudgy fist clutching her harness. She moved closer to him and waited patiently until he was done gumming her ear. She loves kids and is especially gentle with the youngest ones. I put her window nearly all the way down while driving her around tonight - I used to be scared she'd hurt her eyes with debris or she could jump out or something, so I used to just crack it enough where she could get fresh air. I adjusted the side mirror so I could see her face - she looked like a grinning hero dog. I picked up Heather after work and we took a slow drive through Iroquois Park. She smelled something in the woods, got very alert and whined the rest of the drive back down the hill. She is exhausted but in a good way - she is sprawled out at awkward angles in the living room now, barely moving but for the heavy breathing.
I keep second-guessing myself. The vet warned me about this: he said as soon as she hits a point that I decide it is time, she will have the best day right after. And maybe the day after that, too, she will be her old self. But her decline is inexorable and progressing and marked - she won't get better from this. I want her to be able to walk in on her own. I donât want to wait until this is an emergency. I am making the right call before she is in more pain, before her labored breathing becomes a crisis.
But oh, I wish Iâd had more time with her.
When she is a little feverish, I give her a baby aspirin in a treat â sometimes a dab of cream cheese, sometimes peanut butter. Last night it was half a Bing cherry she was eyeballing as I ate.
When she has a good day, we go for walks and I let her set the pace & direction. I avoid one street as there is an angry-sounding dog that always scares her. When she has a bad day, I lay down near her and stroke her ears, her snout, her swollen belly.
I drive home on my lunch break to let her outside. The steroids make her drink more, pee more, and it is cruel to make her hold it for the full day while I am at work. She greets me eagerly at the door, goes immediately out in the yard, and laboriously climbs the stairs to come back inside. The entire exchange seems to wear her out and she half-reclines, half-collapses in the dining room floor. The collapsing thing is just her way of lowering herself to the floor. It is terrifying to hear on a hardwood floor â sounds like someone dumping a box of hammers out. It isnât new â she started doing it when she was about a year old â but with her added weight it is particularly startling.
She doesnât crawl into bed with me much anymore. The other morning, Mick & I were dozing when she crawled up there and half-draped herself over my hip, gazing adoringly at Mick. I snuggled with her for a while, until she was over it and crawled back off the bed. This morning as I was getting dressed for work, she crawled up there and watched me with huge eyes, ears at a mellow relaxed angle. She was breathing heavily just from getting up there.
Iâm trying to behave normally and relish these last few days with her. Shawn & Heather came over last night â we sat on the back porch and enjoyed a beautiful evening with Merlot.
Our appointment with the vet is Wednesday evening. I have the unsavory task ahead of having to dig her grave tomorrow night - I was going to start it tonight but spent time with her instead. Took her to a friend's house who has a large dog and a baby. Merlot was able to give Oliver kisses - the baby was delighted as the family dog is standoffish and doesn't like to be touched. Oliver kept touching her as she passed and finally got to NOM on her floppy ear, one pudgy fist clutching her harness. She moved closer to him and waited patiently until he was done gumming her ear. She loves kids and is especially gentle with the youngest ones. I put her window nearly all the way down while driving her around tonight - I used to be scared she'd hurt her eyes with debris or she could jump out or something, so I used to just crack it enough where she could get fresh air. I adjusted the side mirror so I could see her face - she looked like a grinning hero dog. I picked up Heather after work and we took a slow drive through Iroquois Park. She smelled something in the woods, got very alert and whined the rest of the drive back down the hill. She is exhausted but in a good way - she is sprawled out at awkward angles in the living room now, barely moving but for the heavy breathing.
I keep second-guessing myself. The vet warned me about this: he said as soon as she hits a point that I decide it is time, she will have the best day right after. And maybe the day after that, too, she will be her old self. But her decline is inexorable and progressing and marked - she won't get better from this. I want her to be able to walk in on her own. I donât want to wait until this is an emergency. I am making the right call before she is in more pain, before her labored breathing becomes a crisis.
But oh, I wish Iâd had more time with her.