It is so sad to watch your pets grow old.
We have had a rough few days. We went out Saturday night to visit friends
at about 5:00, and at about 10:00, I received a frantic phone call from my
brother G who was watching the dogs for us.
The howling and crying on the other end of the line were some of the
most heartbreaking sounds I’ve ever heard.
Although Gunni can be a very vocal dog (she is SO talkative that it is
noted in her chart at the vet so that anyone unfamiliar with her does not
assume she is in pain when we are there!), I knew immediately that this was
different. You may recall that she had a
seizure back in October that absolutely scared us to death, and we’ve been
taking her for check-ups often because we know we are living on borrowed time
with her and we don’t want her to suffer.
It was happening again. She was
drooling and she kept falling over as she tried to walk, so G just scooped
her up and held her. We told G that
we would leave immediately and would be home as quickly as we could. He called me back within five minutes and
told me that he wasn’t waiting for us to get home, and that he would take Gunni
straight to the vet and that we could meet him there. This worked out rather well because the vet
is about halfway between home and where we were. He also called my mom to let her know what
was going on and she jumped in her car and met us at the vet as well.
I cried all the way there.
I was scared for Gunni, scared for the other dogs, who apparently
completely freaked out when this happened, and heartbroken for us because I was
sure we were going to lose her. When we
got to the vet, C took Gunni and he and my mom ran to the door. I stood in the parking lot for a moment and
clung to my brother, sobbing into his shoulder.
For those of you who don’t know him, he is truly an amazing human being
and I am so very grateful that he was with Gunni when it happened. Once inside, they immediately took her to the
back because she was in terrible shape.
We sat in the waiting room and given that it was 11:00 on a Saturday
night, everyone who was there was dealing with an emergency situation. We watched not one, not two, but three
families leave with tear-stained faces and empty blankets in their arms. I thought for sure we were next.
We waited for what seemed like forever because it took some
time for her to stabilize. The vet who
was on-call was just wonderful, and spoke to us with kindness and compassion as
he outlined what he believed had happened.
He handled the delicate topic of possible euthanasia with tact and
empathy, but since Gunni had settled down, he recommended leaving her overnight
for observation and bloodwork, and told us that our second favorite vet, Dr.
V., would actually be in on Sunday and could take a look at Gunni. He took us into the back where she was in a
cage and allowed us to hold her and love her, during which time I begged her
not to die overnight. It never ceases to
amaze me what comes out of my mouth during times of despair. We put her on the blanket G had brought
her in, and told her we would see her tomorrow.
When we left there, I was honestly not sure I would see her alive again.
Upon arriving home, four little faces were looking at us
expectantly. If they could speak, I have
no doubt they would have been asking where Gunni was. The look of confusion in their eyes was so
sad. I took turns holding them and all
they did was sniff my shirt over and over and over because I had held her. When we finally went upstairs around 2 am,
the bed felt pretty empty with one less dog in it.
The next morning, Gunni’s bloodwork came back and everything
was great – especially since she is almost 16.
That did not make us feel any better, however, because it just about
rules out a physical issue and leaves only a neurological issue to deal with. Dr. V. called to let us know her thoughts and
that she had examined Gunni, who was comfortable and not in pain, and wagging
her tail – always a good sign. She
planned to keep an eye on her for the day and told us we could pick Gunni up at
4:00. I had been texting my brother Jon
since the night before and he offered repeatedly to come over to help in anyway
he could and to just see Gunni, but C told him that Gunni was not going
anywhere! It is funny how when it comes
to the dogs, C and I do a complete role reversal – he becomes the optimist
and I become the pessimist. I think it’s
because I am so afraid to lose them and I expect the worst, while he refuses to
consider the worst and assures me that things will be all right.
I had a tough decision to make about a secret I’d been
keeping from C. This coming Friday
is his birthday, and I had planned a surprise trip to WDW that I was going to
spring on him Thursday night. I didn’t
know what to do about the trip: Should I
just cancel everything and forget about it?
Should I go ahead with my surprise as planned? What if something happened to Gunni? Would we still want to go? What if something happened to her while we
were gone and I hadn’t included C in the decision? I thought I about how I would feel if the
tables were turned, and decided I would rather have the surprise revealed a few
days early but be able to make the decision about the trip together. So yesterday afternoon, I let him read the
poem I written to reveal the surprise, and was thrilled that he truly had no
idea of what I had planned because he can read me like a book and I am terrible
at trying to keep a secret from him. We
talked about it at length, and have decided to go and celebrate his birthday. My mom will be watching the dogs for us and
G volunteered to help out, too. Have
I mentioned how much I love my family?
So we brought our beloved little Gunni home yesterday and
she has been out of my sight for no stretch more than 60 seconds since that
time. She has slept a lot. A lot.
Almost nonstop. We knew she would
be exhausted from the ordeal, but I keep putting my hand on her to make sure
she is breathing because she is so still and quiet. As I look down at her beautiful white face, I
am reminded how lucky I am to have a life so filled with love. We got a reprieve in October with her first
seizure, and somehow we have been fortunate once again. I am not sure how long this reprieve will be,
and if the time comes when she is in pain, we will honor her and make the
decision to set her free from that pain.
Right now, though, as I type this and she is curled up on the couch with
Ginny and Chelsea on either side of her like bookends, keeping her warm, I
cannot and do not want to imagine our life without her.
Happy Tails to you...
