(no subject)
So this has apparently become the Blog of Pet Death, as the only time I ever come back to it is to talk about another lost pet.
Today we had to take our Boxer, Lucy, in to be put down. This is the first time I've ever had to let a pet go that clearly wasn't ready to go, at least not mentally speaking. (Not counting accidents or illness - there are too many of those to mention.)
We lost Buddy in August, and right around the same time Lucy starting showing more obvious symptoms of what we thought must be hip dysplasia. The vet even confirmed it when we took her in, but none of the recommended treatments slowed down the onset. But Mom was chatting with the daughter of a friend of hers, and this person happens to be a breeder of Boxers, and she said that the symptoms sounded more like degenerative myopathy. We looked it up online and the symptoms were right on. Unfortunately there's no treatment, no cure, nothing that can be done.
She got to the point within the last month where she could barely walk. Her front half was the same as always, but the back legs just would not go. She still wanted to drag herself around, to chase cats and chickens and her ball, to chew her squeaky toys, to bark at us with her hackles raised and her tail a waggin' in her little game of "Get her!" which she never ever took at all seriously. Sometimes she'd get her feet under her and totter around, and then she'd misstep and fall hard. Her back feet were getting raw and bloody where she'd drag herself around so much. We had to hold her up so she could potty, because she couldn't hold herself steady.
She was still bright-eyed and excited to be alive this morning. We let her totter around the backyard, so that she could see the cats and the chickens and sniff at the breeze for interesting smells. Then we went for a ride, and she enjoyed looking out the window. She got to bark at some other dogs in the vet's parking lot, and investigated all the smells in the vet's office. And then she very gently went to sleep.
She was the sweetest, funniest, silliest, prettiest dog EVER, and we are heartbroken.
Today we had to take our Boxer, Lucy, in to be put down. This is the first time I've ever had to let a pet go that clearly wasn't ready to go, at least not mentally speaking. (Not counting accidents or illness - there are too many of those to mention.)
We lost Buddy in August, and right around the same time Lucy starting showing more obvious symptoms of what we thought must be hip dysplasia. The vet even confirmed it when we took her in, but none of the recommended treatments slowed down the onset. But Mom was chatting with the daughter of a friend of hers, and this person happens to be a breeder of Boxers, and she said that the symptoms sounded more like degenerative myopathy. We looked it up online and the symptoms were right on. Unfortunately there's no treatment, no cure, nothing that can be done.
She got to the point within the last month where she could barely walk. Her front half was the same as always, but the back legs just would not go. She still wanted to drag herself around, to chase cats and chickens and her ball, to chew her squeaky toys, to bark at us with her hackles raised and her tail a waggin' in her little game of "Get her!" which she never ever took at all seriously. Sometimes she'd get her feet under her and totter around, and then she'd misstep and fall hard. Her back feet were getting raw and bloody where she'd drag herself around so much. We had to hold her up so she could potty, because she couldn't hold herself steady.
She was still bright-eyed and excited to be alive this morning. We let her totter around the backyard, so that she could see the cats and the chickens and sniff at the breeze for interesting smells. Then we went for a ride, and she enjoyed looking out the window. She got to bark at some other dogs in the vet's parking lot, and investigated all the smells in the vet's office. And then she very gently went to sleep.
She was the sweetest, funniest, silliest, prettiest dog EVER, and we are heartbroken.