This is just a quick update for those of you at all interested in the life and times of a Mc-Family dog.
Shadow has taken an abrupt turn for the worse. She had gotten off to a decent start this week, eating a little bit of canned food and going about her normal daily business without a problem; in the past 24 hours she hasn’t moved more than twice, and not without a fair amount of pain. By last night, she couldn’t walk 2 feet without busting her ass, couldn’t pee or poop without falling down, and wouldn’t touch more than a couple spoon-fed bites of the gravy-ladden Alpo she found so delicious just days ago. I had to feed her as she laid on the ground…and so far today she’s found the strength only to roll over once in her sleep.
After last night’s accidents, Caleb and I decided to make an exploratory phone call to our vet, who didn’t sound too optimistic when I told him what’s been going on with Shadow.
I made a tentative appointment for Saturday, which is fast shaping up to be THE Suckiest Day of the Year.
I never dreamed I’d be so emotional over just "looking into it"…I never came out and asked the question because I couldn’t even bring myself to say the words…hell, I can’t even type the words…and for the love of Pete, she’s only been "my dog" for 3 years–less, actually. I can only imagine what my husband must feel–surprisingly, it was he who first suggested that we consider the gloomiest of options.
But is it really the gloomiest? Am I being selfish that I want to keep her alive and doped up on expensive medications that may or may not work? I can’t bear the thought of her being in any pain–and she certainly wouldn’t clue us in if she were–and, especially after this past week or so, I get the feeling that she’s given up, for the most part. I think if she could talk to me, she’d say "I’m sooo over this."
Then there’s this part of me that feels incredibly guilty. I don’t like being the one to "pull the plug". And wasn’t it less than a month ago that I was cursing the ground she constantly barfed on? She’s been a good dog, a sweet dog, a loyal pet. Half the time all I do is complain about her (she hates me, she mocks me, she’s too stinky/farty/hairy/sheddy/picky/crotchedy/bitchy/big/stubborn). Life’s too short for these type of love/hate relationships.
Well…I’m completely out of words.