He got sick about six months ago with Cushing's Disease, which is a relatively treatable condition affecting his adrenal gland. He's been on medication for quite some time for that, but he never really responded well to it. Shortly before our trip to California, it seemed to get significantly worse, despite the fact that all his lab work measuring that specific condition (which we check regularly) indicated he should be fine. So, I took him in for a once over at the vet. She did some blood work that wasn't Cushing's specific and an overall exam. She called while we were in California to let us know that Eddie had Leukemia, in addition to the Cushing's.
This was devastating news, of course. Leukemia in a dog is terminal in nearly all cases. In an acute case, like Eddie's, it comes on quickly and within weeks to about a month, the dog succumbs (sometimes, Leukemia can come on more slowly, and develop over a period of months, but it is still ultimate terminal, but this isn't what happened to Eddie). There is chemotherapy for dogs, but in acute cases, if it works, and that's a big IF, because it only works about 30 percent of the time, the dog's survival rate is only increased about 1-2 months beyond what was originally expected.
So, we had to balance the risks/costs/quality of life scenario and decided to just let nature take it's course. We got home on Sunday night and by the following Monday, we had to put Eddie down. I took him to the vet to have her check in on him and determine how long we might need, but his health had been steadily declining. He wasn't able to walk far, as in no further than up or down the hallway, without getting exhausted. And he was drinking 6-8 bowls of water a day. He was having trouble breathing and he was exhausted.
The vet explained that his organs were dehydrated from the cancer and he was having trouble breathing because his blood was becoming thickened from the size and number of the cancer cells, which were now outnumbering healthy cells, making his blood too thick to pump through his heart. She heard fluid around his heart now, and explained that it was time. While he wasn't acting as if he was in pain, merely tired, she said that he was suffering significantly, and it was time to say goodbye. Right on target, from the time he started acting sick, to the time he was succumbing to his illness, it was less than a month.
I called Bryon and told him that he'd better come home from work early, and we went to the vet as a family that evening, and we all sat with him as he left us. He was quite calm, and Bryon and I never stopped petting him for a second. They gave him a sedative before they put him down, which made him very calm, which he was already, but it also made him lose a little control of his tongue, which he was trying desperately to use to lick us in appreciation for all the attention. So, his last act was an attempt at kisses, which was both sweet and a little sad, because he couldn't control his tongue enough to put it back in his mouth, so it kept sticking to the floor. He seemed happy because it kept making us giggle through the tears. Every time we'd help him, and put it back in his mouth, he'd try to kiss us again, and it would flop back to the floor. Silly Eddie with his constant kisses. He was a lick monster, right up until the end.
And then, before we knew it, he was gone. The vet was wonderful and let us stay with him for as long as we wanted. I didn't want to ever leave. I laid with him for a long time and just held him and scratched him and we cried for a long time. She even came back in, just to hug us. Being a vet must be a wonderful and terrible job, all at the same time.
Collin asked to be there, and I was a little nervous about it, but he's never known a day of his life without Eddie and I decided to let him come. I can still remember how the crib rail on Collin's crib was all scratched up from Eddie standing on his hind legs to peer in at him all the time. Or, how Eddie always knew when Collin was about to wake up when he was an infant; Eddie would pace outside Collin's door before he ever made a peep and then lay down and wait for me to get there, as if to tell me, "please come get your baby, he needs you!"
When we got there, I think he was a little unsure of how to handle it, especially when he saw his parents so upset, so he decided that he'd better just play Angry Birds on the phone. So, we let him. He's been okay with the whole situation ever since. We read him Rainbow Bridge and he mentions the Rainbow Bridge about once a day, and makes sure to ask me if we'll all end up there to find Eddie, eventually. He's dealing with it in his own five year-old way. On the way home, while we were still sobbing, he said, "Why is everyone so upset? We can get a new dog, right?"
The first few days were very sad. Every time I came through the door, I fell to pieces. There was no thumping tail waiting to be let out of his kennel. There was no slobbery kisses of excitement to see me. There was no goofy jumping dog, gleeful to see me. There was no bark at the doorbell. There was simply, nothing. Even Homer seems to feel the void. He roams from room to room and simply moans.
Eddie was my first dog. I'd wanted a dog every day of my life and when I was finally on my own, I got him. I visited every local kennel in the area and I was disappointed at each one because no dog there seemed to find a corner of my heart. I was sure that the minute I could have a dog, I'd be happy with any dog I had, but it just wasn't true. There was no connection. The minute they opened Eddie's cage, he bounded out and jumped on my shoulders and licked my face. From that moment onward, he was my dog. I'm glad for every second I knew him, no matter how silly and crazy he's been.
He's been afraid of ceiling fans, he's been afraid of doggy doors, he's chewed countless papers and bits of trash. He's only liked octopus toys and he's cost me an arm and a leg in specialty food. He's also been the only friend I've had sometimes and he's been there when I met my husband, he's been there when I brought my baby home from the hospital and he's been there when I sobbed all night when my friend David died. He knew when I was happy and when I was sad. He wasn't just a good dog. He was a great dog. He will be missed every day.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment