Zany...
Zany's dying.
We rescued her from the pound about thirteen years ago when she was such a little puppy that the shelter said she was a Pomeranian. She grew up and it turns out she's a Spitz. She'd been found on the side of the highway in Cheyenne all alone and only six weeks old. It was a miracle she was found and a miracle that we got her in the first place because so many people came in and wanted her.
Zany's my special girl. I trained her, I love her, and she likes it when I feed her baby carrots.
Six months ago she started showing symptoms of anemia and had a huge loss of appetite. The doctors couldn't find out what the cause was even after checks on her bone marrow, X-Rays and ultrasounds.
She started showing the same symptoms last week.
Last time she got through it with iron supplements, soft food, and those weird "appetite boosting" pills that the vet prescribed.
It's not working.
I couldn't get her interested in her food today and she can't stand on her own any longer. We have to carry her up and down the stairs because she's so exhausted just by walking a few steps. She'll drink water, but when she does you can see just how anemic she is. He tongue is almost white. I spent about an hour trying to get her to eat something but ended up moving the food out of the way so she could just put her head down.
She kept closing her eyes and started breathing harder.
Tuesday she fell asleep in my arms with her nose buried in my collar.
Today I saw her giving up.
I thought I'd cried it all out earlier when we were talking about how much this is hurting her and how the vet said she had doubts about her making it through all of this again at her age.
Turns out I've still got a lot of tears left in me for her.
