Beau James Jiminy Cricket
That was my dog's full name. Is. He's still alive as of now. But not by much. Today he started gasping for breath at about 11:00. My mom woke me up and we took him to the vet. They did an x-ray. His lungs were full of fluid. His heart problems were starting to catch up to him. On the vet's recommendation, we took him to the emergency vet in Paramus. They took him from us, and the last time I saw him, he was gasping in the vet's arms. I hope that's not my last memory of him. They put him in an oxygen cage so he could use what little air he could breathe better. He's not responding to higher doses of Lasix, the drug he's been on for a few weeks now. They doubled it, and there's been no real change. If he doesn't get better on a still higher dose, we're going to put him to sleep at 6 PM.
When I was 10, I begged my parents for a Pom puppy. We found his breeder in Ohio, and we bought him sight unseen. I remember going to the airport sometime in Februrary. Newark. We waited for a long time. We brought a collar and leash. We went somewhere to pick him up. I remember a counter... We're putting him to sleep now. I have to go.
Beau James Jiminy Cricket. That was my dog's full name. Was. He's now at peace. But we aren't. The vet called and said she didn't want to wait anymore. So we drove back to Paramus. The vet told us what to expect, and they couldn't even take him into the "family suite" because the vet was afraid the stress would push him over the edge. So she took us into "the back." He was lying in an oxygen cage, trying to breathe. His chin was resting on a towel. It hurt so much to see him like that. The vet opened the cage and my mom started to pet him and tell him what a good boy he was. I stroked his head. I could tell he knew who we were. And I think that if he had any breath to spare, he would have licked our hands. My mom had so much trouble saying ,"Yes." The vet put some saline in his IV, then the anesthesia, then more saline. I idly wondered if she thought it'd get infected. I thanked Jimmy. My mom kept telling him how good he was, and that she was there.
He kept struggling for air, and then he stopped. His eyes drooped, but didn't close. Then fluid came pouring out of his nose; the fluid in his lungs that was preventing him from breathing. It was red, but not blood red. A little lighter. I clung to my mother, but I didn't have time to grieve. She was taking it much worse than I. We decided to have him cremated, but I didn't want the ashes. We don't need anything tangible. I can't get the picture of the fluid dripping from his little black nose out of my head. We left his body in the oxygen cage. We went back to the family suite to wait for my dad, but he got lost. Mom called him and told him to just go home. We wanted to leave. Mom signed some papers and we left.
I will miss his eyes, and his nose, and his little pink tongue. I'll miss his little coats in the laundry. I miss his yipping when we come back from a long trip. I'll miss his little paws that looked like chocolate chip cookies, black on tan. I'll miss his ears. I'll miss his little rat tail. I'll miss seeing him all wet after a bath, and holding him in a towel to dry him off. I'll miss our bite-fights. I'll miss his little snores. I'll miss his stomach gurgling after he's eaten too much turkey or cheese. I'll miss his heartbeat when I hold him.
Rest in peace, my little prince. We miss you.
When I was 10, I begged my parents for a Pom puppy. We found his breeder in Ohio, and we bought him sight unseen. I remember going to the airport sometime in Februrary. Newark. We waited for a long time. We brought a collar and leash. We went somewhere to pick him up. I remember a counter... We're putting him to sleep now. I have to go.
Beau James Jiminy Cricket. That was my dog's full name. Was. He's now at peace. But we aren't. The vet called and said she didn't want to wait anymore. So we drove back to Paramus. The vet told us what to expect, and they couldn't even take him into the "family suite" because the vet was afraid the stress would push him over the edge. So she took us into "the back." He was lying in an oxygen cage, trying to breathe. His chin was resting on a towel. It hurt so much to see him like that. The vet opened the cage and my mom started to pet him and tell him what a good boy he was. I stroked his head. I could tell he knew who we were. And I think that if he had any breath to spare, he would have licked our hands. My mom had so much trouble saying ,"Yes." The vet put some saline in his IV, then the anesthesia, then more saline. I idly wondered if she thought it'd get infected. I thanked Jimmy. My mom kept telling him how good he was, and that she was there.
He kept struggling for air, and then he stopped. His eyes drooped, but didn't close. Then fluid came pouring out of his nose; the fluid in his lungs that was preventing him from breathing. It was red, but not blood red. A little lighter. I clung to my mother, but I didn't have time to grieve. She was taking it much worse than I. We decided to have him cremated, but I didn't want the ashes. We don't need anything tangible. I can't get the picture of the fluid dripping from his little black nose out of my head. We left his body in the oxygen cage. We went back to the family suite to wait for my dad, but he got lost. Mom called him and told him to just go home. We wanted to leave. Mom signed some papers and we left.
I will miss his eyes, and his nose, and his little pink tongue. I'll miss his little coats in the laundry. I miss his yipping when we come back from a long trip. I'll miss his little paws that looked like chocolate chip cookies, black on tan. I'll miss his ears. I'll miss his little rat tail. I'll miss seeing him all wet after a bath, and holding him in a towel to dry him off. I'll miss our bite-fights. I'll miss his little snores. I'll miss his stomach gurgling after he's eaten too much turkey or cheese. I'll miss his heartbeat when I hold him.
Rest in peace, my little prince. We miss you.