Darwin
The doctor in Durango called us about an hour after we got to sleep last night, at 11:30pm. She said they'd found some kind of plaque around Darwin's pericardium and that she'd scraped it off. She said that that, combined with fluid in the belly was a strong sign of cancer, and it would probably be late-stage, and have developed significantly already. The apparent blockage in his digestive track could be, basically, a tumor, I guess. She said that it would take significant, all-night work just to try and keep him stabilized, and that, in effect, it wasn't worth it, because there is a strong likelihood the plaque around his heart will come back.
I could barely process what was being said, partly due to lack of sleep from both nights, and partly because she was telling me that Darwie has no chance of surviving. Josie took the phone got the same run-down, and told the doctor to please, keep working, and at least keep him alive until we could get there in the morning! The doctor was somber and the outlook is grim.
We spent the night crying and sometimes wailing, and also trying to sleep. He is our son, and we love him dearly, and we never wanted anything bad to happen to him. He didn't deserve this. He was the best dog in the world.
Some tiny part of us is still hoping that there is a way he could survive. We are leaving for the hour-long car trip soon with a good friend, Sujan, who has four dogs of her own. She knows and loves Darwin, too, and has essentially become his aunt. She volunteered to drive us, because she knew we'd be a mess.
So, we are going, probably to say our last good-byes to our friend, our son, our beloved pet. He was a very special dog, as the vet's husband in Durango told me yesterday. You didn't have to know him well to figure that out. It was clear to everyone.
I could barely process what was being said, partly due to lack of sleep from both nights, and partly because she was telling me that Darwie has no chance of surviving. Josie took the phone got the same run-down, and told the doctor to please, keep working, and at least keep him alive until we could get there in the morning! The doctor was somber and the outlook is grim.
We spent the night crying and sometimes wailing, and also trying to sleep. He is our son, and we love him dearly, and we never wanted anything bad to happen to him. He didn't deserve this. He was the best dog in the world.
Some tiny part of us is still hoping that there is a way he could survive. We are leaving for the hour-long car trip soon with a good friend, Sujan, who has four dogs of her own. She knows and loves Darwin, too, and has essentially become his aunt. She volunteered to drive us, because she knew we'd be a mess.
So, we are going, probably to say our last good-byes to our friend, our son, our beloved pet. He was a very special dog, as the vet's husband in Durango told me yesterday. You didn't have to know him well to figure that out. It was clear to everyone.