Cows and Licks

I was driving by a big, juicy, grassy area today and I had to think about Sparks. He was definitely excited whenever I let him loose on our neighbor's patch of grass. He would roll around, rub his snout, grunt and snort, bite into it, scoot across it face first ... He was ecstatic! Eventually he would just stand there like a little cow and he would graze ... and graze ... and graaaaaaaaaaaaze. Every morning the same routine, with me ending up promising a big meaty breakfast if he'd kick it into next gear. I miss those little moments of just 'us'.


There are quite a few friends in my life right now, who are going through tough times with their pups. I want you all to know that I think about you daily, and that I do pray for you all and wish you the best. There's nothing worse than feeling helpless when your fur child is suffering and you're not able to help. Above all, there's nothing worse than trying to figure out when their quality of life has decreased to a point that life in general has become meaningless to your sweetheart. I found this website to be extremely helpful in making an informed decision...

http://www.caninecancer.com/endoflife.html

We always wonder whether our furbabies will give us a sign when they are 'ready', and I think most of them will. But it depends whether we want to see those signs and acknowledge them. For me it was important to not listen to my heart (which was screaming at me to continue to hang on) but to listen to my head, and be rational, and most of all, be compassionate.

During Sparky's last few days, there was an improvement at one point and I eagerly called my girlfriend to tell her that Sparks was fighting back. She had the compassion and the insight to tell me that he would never get better, that things were only going to get worse. For some reason, as intelligent as I thought I was, this had to be pointed out to me ... I don't know how I had missed it up to that point. The day he passed away, after a long weekend of not being himself, he came over to where I was sitting, and for the first time in 3 days he was 'present' and he licked my cheek, as if he wanted to lick away all those tears and tell me that it was okay - that he was ready to go, and that I would be okay without him... Oftentimes I think about this moment and I think how big it was of him to do this, and how very wise and so much more mature than I could have ever been.

I truly think they do give us a sign, and all we have to do is listen ...

Our Last Journey Together

I don't know where to begin, except I let my soulmate go.

I had a lot of doubts yesterday. I felt guilt. I wasn't sure if this is what he wanted, because I was confused by his last rally to be perky and cute with me. But deep down I knew - my heart knew - it was time. My friend had offered to go with us, but thankfully he was considerate and kept his distance. He knew that Sparky was a Momma's Boy. He knew that he would want me all to himself, and anything different would be cause for 'concern'.

I had fed him another hefty dose of deli meats before we left, placed him in the car on the passenger seat beside me, with his paws draped over my legs. The entire way to the vet, I was able to pet him and talk to him. My friend decided to take his own car, giving us even more space. I had read somewhere to stay as calm as possible, to not let your emotions run wild, to not upset your fur child in any way before "it" was done. It was difficult, but I told him how much I loved him, how proud I was of him, how much joy he gave me, how he was the best puppy there ever was and ever will be, and how it was time for him to return to puppyhood, and to have a good ol' time at the Rainbow Bridge. I think he was listening to me.

When we arrived at the vet, I decided to keep him outside on a juicy patch of green grass. He always loved grass and he loved to rub his face and whole body across it. This time he kept circling for a good 5 minutes before sitting down and watching other dogs go by. It must have been a lab convention somewhere because we saw countless labs, right and left. Sparky was a big lab lover, probably because of his heritage. But this time I could tell that he had grown tired. Even though he kept an eye on everything, it wasn't the usual excitement I was used to. Another sign that things were not right, that my boy was tired. Suddenly the door to the vet opened and an older gentleman with a black female lab came out. Sparky showed immediate interest, rose, ears half-way perked, and his tail wagging as much as he could in his position. It was wonderful to see him one last time; he saw something that made him happy. It was almost as if he was trying to show off; as if he had forgotten what brought us there. It was bitter-sweet.

Soon thereafter the vet tech arrived with the first shot in hand. We had decided to give him the sedative out on the grass to help him relax, and we would later move him inside to a room to give the second shot to stop his heart. I watched my baby-boy get sleepy and offered my hand to rest his face in. The entire time, 20 minutes, I kept repeating how much he meant to me, how this was the right thing, how I would be okay, and how I would insist on him checking in with me every week, if not every day. My heart was breaking into a million pieces but I made it without crying. I didn't want to worry him in any way.

Even though it had been 20 minutes, I felt the lab techs came back too soon to put him on a gurney and carry him in. When they had turned his back to me, he immediately rose up in high alert, looking for me... I'll never forget. We settled in a room, where they gave me another 10 minutes to talk with him, to pet him, to explain to him how everything will be alright, and to make absolutely sure that he had been the best dog to ever walk this Earth.

The vet arrived and explained the procedure to me. She said she would shave his leg a little, find a vein, and once the injection was completed, he would be gone within seconds. I asked her to tell me when, so I could make doubly sure that he would get one last final squeeze from me. The entire time I remained on eye level with him, and whenever he opened his eyes, he would see my smiling face, no matter how hard I wanted to cry.

In true Sparky-fashion, he refused to make things easy. The vet told me how his vein was "uncooperative", and how she couldn't believe she had such a hard time. I had to laugh a little, because it was so Sparky. He had many health scares in his lifetime, and he should have died quite a few times before, but he always insisted on fighting the fight, on sticking around. Eventually she found the vein: "It's time". I held his paw, stroked his face, whispered to him how much I loved him, kissed his face and that was it. Over. So quick. But it was peaceful and just what we needed. When she listened for a heartbeat and shook her head, I fell apart... gone. I sobbed, like I have sobbed so many times in the last few days. I was overwhelmed by the immediate emptiness. Years and years of absolute devotion to this little guy - gone. My life's purpose - gone. He meant the entire world to me. He came before everything else. Nothing was ever done without him on the forefront of my mind.

The vet was in tears as well. Sparky had been such a lover, such a ladies' man; every woman, human or canine, always fell for him. His vet was no exception. I didn't want to leave him there. It felt wrong to walk out of there with my companion left behind. But I somehow got the courage and walked away.

I didn't really cry when I got home. I felt a strange comfort when I was standing in my living room. I looked over to his favorite spot in front of the TV. Years of him lounging there have discolored the tile, and I always refused to clean with chemicals there because I knew my baby slept there. Now I have a brown spot in the shape of a sleeping dog there ... Sometimes it feels comforting, sometimes it causes heartbreak.

I cried when I came home from dinner. It was 8 pm and I felt lonely, and empty. Even though I had prepared myself and actually told myself when I walked up to my house, that Sparky was not going to be there, my initial reaction was to look for him when the door swung open. I spent the rest of the night crying for my little boy and kneeling in front of the TV, where carpet meets the tiles, trying to be comforted by his scent that still lingers there ... I miss him so much.

Broken

I'm watching the last 2 hours tick by slowly. It still feels surreal to me at times, like I don't fully comprehend the tidal wave of heart break und sorrow that is about to unravel over me. It didn't make it easier that Sparky perked up last night. For about an hour he was his old self, and then he passed out snoring in front of the TV. My first instinct was "Improvement!!!!!" but then reality set in: there is no improvement with this terminal disease. Throughout the night he slept restlessly. He would wake every hour, almost exactly to the minute. He was always good with time. I used to call him my canine alarm clock, because he would wake me every morning at exactly 8:11 am ... until he got sick.

Today he refused the chicken too. I tried other things, but no, nothing appealed to him. I dug out some more lunch meat and fed him sliced turkey and ham, a big hit! Surprisingly, he even refused his cookies. Another big sign that things were coming to an end. I sat on the floor sobbing when suddenly he perked up, got off the floor all by himself, and came over to nudge me and wag his tail. I was elated, I was excited and I cancelled the appointment. I ended up going to work, thinking that he must be well. But within 2 hours I had a really bad feeling of doom in my stomach and I went home. When I got here, he was asleep, didn't hear me, and when he finally did, he didn't rise. I helped him up and we went outside, very briefly. He peed, stumbled, and sat down in it. At that moment I saw my desperation, my drive to find 'anything' that would make me put this off. And again I needed to remind myself that this disease is not curable, that he will die, and probably very soon, within days. One of my friends said "What if his tail wag wasn't a "I wanna live", but instead a "It's okay mom, don't worry, it's time". I sobbed. He was right. Another friend asked me whether I really wanted to wait till the last minute to do this, when he was seriously suffering. Again, I sobbed. Of course not. I called to reschedule to 4:15 pm.

So I'm sitting here, still crying, with Sparky across the room from me, in front of the door, his favorite spot since getting sick. He's sleeping and thank god for his near-deafness, he can't hear me cry. I'm torn. I don't know whether I am doing the right thing. But everything taken together and looked at objectively shows me that he has no good days left. He's still a bit perky, and I doubt he has any idea what's about to happen, but I hope he will be okay with it.

There's a lovely woman here on Blogger. She reads Sparky's Blog because she has her own story of losing her canine soulmate. In her "About Me" section she wrote one word: BROKEN. And that is me now. I feel I'm stumbling on the rim of a really dark pit, and when Sparky leaves my side, I will fall. He has been my rock for the last 7 years, 1 month, and 3 days. I'm gonna miss my boy so much. No one has held my heart so intensely as he has. I am so scared.

Our Last Day

It's for the best. Keeping him longer would be cruel. I know that he's trying so hard to hang in there for me. When I was sobbing earlier, he suddenly bounced up, acting like nothing was wrong, and I knew exactly that he was doing it for me... I've spent hours laying next to him, talking to him, trying not to cry but my tears always win. I wish he wouldn't see me like that. I am so afraid.

I keep trying to look at it as giving him one last gift, and less of how his death will rip my heart out. I promised him I'd do the right thing, and so it will be done. Tomorrow. At 3:00 pm. I was hoping the vet could come by my place, but it looks like I'll have to take him in instead. I'm going to be there all the way till the end, holding his paw, kissing his ears and his face.

I went to the grocery store to get some deli meats and cheeses, some of his favorite chewy treats, some vanilla yogurt and some vanilla ice cream. I want to spoil him one last time.

I'm not sure if he knows. But I'm pretty sure he knows something is wrong with his mommy, I wish I didn't have to worry him.

I'm so afraid of tomorrow. I keep wavering between It's Time and Not Yet. But it all comes down to the same thing: He's not getting better, he's only getting worse. Letting him go with dignity is so important.

I wish I could change things. I wish I'd been more diligent in trying to find this cancer. I wish I'd never fed him commercial food. I wish we had more time together. I wish I could go with him ...

I Can't Imagine

I've been talking to Sparky all day today. We've hung out more than ever and I've been trying to let him know that it's okay. It's okay to let go now. I can't forget what the vet said: "He's hanging in there for you. He shouldn't have made this long". I sobbed most of the day. I tried not to let him see me like this, but how am I supposed to do this in private. He's been sitting all day by the front door, looking out, checking the neighborhood. It pains me to think about what will be next. I've made a plan. I had to. The way he's looking at me ... he's looking to me for guidance, to make a decision, to make it okay for him to pass.

If he's not remarkably better by Monday, I will call his vet and arrange that we 'do this' Tuesday morning. I know I have to. I owe him this.

I can't imagine life without my little boy. I can't imagine coming home and not seeing my little fuzzball greet me at the door. I can't image not being able to bury my face in his fur. I can't imagine not being covered in black dog hair on a daily basis. I can't imagine seeing his goofy grin when he does something he knows he's not supposed to. I can't imagine not kissing him good night every night. I can't imagine not seeing his tail wag like a propeller when I get home from work. I can't imagine not going on our daily walks. I can't imagine not making his meals in the morning and evening. I can't imagine not having his stinky feet in my face. I can't imagine not taking him with me when I go to the beach. I can't imagine not hearing his gentle snore at night. Most of all, I can't imagine not being loved by him.

I just can't imagine.

Not good

He's been declining again since yesterday afternoon. The usual, lots of panting, seeming restless or anxious. He slept okay, but his overall condition was just not good. Today in the morning he didn't want his usual breakfast, even after I didn't make him take the Neoplasene. He ended up eating a couple of Wieners and some Cottage Cheese. I left a message for the holistic vet, telling her I was stopping the treatment, because I felt it wasn't working.

Two hours later she called me back and gave me the bad news. She agreed with stopping everything and going into full pain control mode. I was surprised because I had hoped she would try to convince me that we could beat this thing. No.
She told me that she had a chance to take a lot at the x-rays from a month ago. She had stopped by my regular vet to take a look. What she saw was not what she had prepared for. She told me that his entire chest, and especially his lungs were so badly affected by the cancer, that she was surprised he was still alive after a month. When I ask her what it meant, she said that he could probably 'go' any day now. She told me to hang in through the weekend, and if he didn't make a turn-around, it was definitely time to let go.

I am crying my eyes our while I am writing this. I would do anything if this didn't have to happen. I don't want to be without my boy. We're a team, and we have always been one since he mooched his way into my life 8 years ago ... I can't imagine that as early as 2 days from now, my boy won't be with me anymore. What am I supposed to do then? Everything is going to remind me of him. EVERYTHING. There's not one spot that will not make me break down in tears, it already does now... Right now he's sleeping on the floor. I've noticed that I've been silently hoping for him to just go to sleep ... I don't want to have to do this. But I just don't want him to suffer anymore either ...

Horrible Night

Last night was awful. Even though he was fast asleep when I went to bed, within 30 min he was wide awake, panting. It wasn't the normal panting, it was loud, and somewhat labored. It seemed, the longer he was sitting in the dark panting, the more he stressed, the worse it got. I tried to calm him in the dark but it didn't help. I tried laying next to him and petting him, and it didn't help. Eventually I turned on the TV for some light, and got him some of the new kibble I bought (for cancer dogs). He seemed to forget about his breathing issue a little, and after I gave him some peanut butter he looked much happier. I left on the TV until I heard him snore a little. The same procedure was repeated 4 more times throughout the night. It was a very long night for both of us.

Today I woke up to a still sleepy dog. He was laying on his side and I decided to get ready for work first and letting him get some rest. I figured by the time he'd smell the pork loin that I made for him the night before, he would be up and poking his head into the kitchen. But no. I even went over to him with his food bowl and he continued to lay there. The nose was twitching but he wasn't moving. I helped him up, and then he ate. Clearly, food is still important to him, once he's up and running, but I can tell that he's starting to get really tired. He's turning into a different pooch, not the one I spent half his life with. I know, I keep saying the same thing, but I am just so heartbroken. I cried so much, trying to do it silently so that he doesn't notice me. I have an important scholarship interview in less than 6 hours and I'm all cried out ...

When is the right time? And how long do I keep going? I didn't give him his Neoplasene and all the other stuff today, because I didn't want him to feel nauseous on top of his weakness. I just wanted him to enjoy his meal, without having to swallow some bitter pill first. I don't know guys, I'm feeling that this is coming to an end. To me it seems the Neoplasene is not working. I don't think I will start with it again, if he doesn't perk up ... I just don't want him to spend his last days/weeks sick to his stomach too.

Today when I went to work, Sparky looked at me and came to the door with me. He never does that. I looked down on him, and part of me felt like he was saying good-bye, or saying "Mom I'm really tired", as in "Prepare yourself" ... I left with such a heavy heart and full fear...

Acceptance

Sparky 2004 - he was such a stunner, people always stopped to pet him, hug him.

Acceptance ... it's become really difficult. I had posted another post earlier about my speculations that Sparky was suffering from heart disease and that his weakness and panting was easily fixable with pills. I had researched the issue for hours over the weekend, frequented all kinds of dog forums to get expertise on pharmaceuticals, diets, exercise ... you name it, I was reading up on it. All in preparation to switch gears on the treatment to make him feel better, to save him, to keep him with me...

It all came crashing down when the vet finally called me back in the evening to tell me that I was hanging on to false hope. She said that even though he had an enlarged heart, there was no heart disease, that his heart rythm was steady and good, that there was no murmur, that it was fairly strong. She told me "You need to start letting go. It's not fair to you. You've done all you can." I am heartbroken all over again. I was hoping to have found something, anything. I asked her whether she was sure that we were not overlooking anything. I would give anything. It's been so hard the last few days. Overall he seems okay, but the panting and the coughing scares me so much. And he's weak. I was hoping that something else could be done.

I'm starting my last 3 months of law school on Monday. I'm starting to study for the bar very soon. I can't focus at all on anything but him. I don't know how things will be. I don't want to leave him alone all day and then all night, when I'm in class - I feel I'm going to miss our last moments together... God, I am so heartbroken.

Another Problem to Add to the List

I didn't post the last couple of days, because things were up and down a lot, and I'm trying to resist whining immediately about it ... I have to get used to the bad days, and not just focus on the good days.

Anyway, Friday we went for another acupuncture appointment. That morning he looked especially good, and he acted in a lot of ways that he hadn't acted in a while. Too many little details that wouldn't make sense to many outsiders, but to me, it was a big surprise and a big step in the right direction.

While he was getting acupuncture I discussed his heart condition with the vet. The night before he had been laying on his side when I noticed that a patch of his fur was pulsating. At first I couldn't really believe it, but then it dawned on me that his heart was beating and it was visible through his fur, about a 3 by 3 patch of fur. When I had received the original diagnosis of his cancer, I was also made aware that he had an enlarged heart. Not just a little, but huge. It takes up all of his upper portion of his chest cavity. The original vet had told me not to worry too much about it, and meds weren't needed, and she wasn't even sure if it was all heart, or whether the tumors were part of the image, or whether it was the heart sac ... Anyway, seeing his fur move rapidly I felt like I was staring at a time bomb. I discussed it with the holistic vet and she put him on Bio Cardio immediately. Bio Cardio consists of Hawthorne Berry, which has been known to improve the contractions of the heart muscle and improve heart health. It can be used for a variety of heart diseases. The holistic vet was also surprised I hadn't mentioned it before, and told me that his weakness could very well be from his heart condition. I felt like an ass. I had double-checked with the other vet the night of the initial diagnosis, just to make sure I didn't have to worry --- but now I felt like a neglectful mother.

After we got home, the same thing happened that had happened last time - he crashed from the acupuncture. This time I was at least prepared. The holistic vet checked in with us later, and she said not to worry, but she was surprised how sensitive of a pooch he was. Well, he'd always been like that. Whatever could go wrong, usually does, and usually to a magnified degree. At least this time it only lasted 18 hours.

I guess I should be grateful, because overall he's doing okay. But I can't. Not today. Little things are creeping up and they all add to the big picture, which is not pretty. There are those good days, when I completely forget about what's going on and what our future is going to look like. And then those bad days hit, and I grieve all over again. I must be in denial. I don't know. But I do know that I can't imagine my life without him. And it hurts like hell when I think about that I'll be left behind...

Nausea and Diarrhea

Be aware, nausea and diarrhea are likely to follow the ingestion of Neoplasene.

Again, I am not 100% positive, but I would say 85% of certainty is guaranteed. Over the last week, I've been trying, unsuccessfully, to get rid of his diarrhea. It's a tough feat. Chicken and rice will only be an interesting food choice for so long, especially once your pooch figures out that he can have pretty much anything these days. With just rice and chicken, the poopage improves ... without (because he's associating rice and chicken with Neoplasene now, thus forcing me to switch things up) the diarrhea comes right back... It's a never-ending battle at this point. He's currently taking Colostrum and I started him on Pet Dophilus - I'm hoping it will improve things at the rear end... Poor pup.

Other than that, his legs remain weak, and since I'm working from home all day today, he's lazy and just laying around, instead of being bouncy and trying to impress me like he usually does when I get back home from work.

Definitely looking forward to what acupuncture might be able to do for him.