This may be a little graphic. And long.
Almost two years ago, Elmo got very sick. He spent two weeks at the vet undergoing tests trying to figure out what was going on. We were afraid it was cancer because of the way his white blood cell count would skyrocket. There was an obvious raging infection somewhere, but he only responded negatively to antibiotics or any treatment. Dr. Mike did exploratory surgery looking for anything that might have been causing his problems. What he found was an enlarged lymph node deep in the mesentary of his intestines. Because the lymph node was so large, it was cutting off circulation to most of his small intestines, and left alone, he would have died from septicemia. We considered it good news that it wasn't cancer, but he was still going to have a long road ahead. Dr. Mike and Dr. E removed three-fourths of his small intestines, and hoped. They told us that he would probably have chronic diarrhea for the rest of his life, and that may not be very long. I think the collective estimate was about six to eight months. They both felt that it would be best for him to come home as soon as possible to spend as much time with us as he could. Because of his "short bowel syndrome" his two bowls of food a day turned into a four to five bowl-a-day habit. He had to have a higher volume of food spread out over the whole day so that he could get the calories and nutrients he needed to survive.
When we got him home, he ran around the yard like nothing was wrong. You would never have known that just two weeks earlier, he could barely lift his head. He barked and barked and howled and howled, letting everyone in the neighborhood know he was home. He was so excited. Sure enough, he did have the chronic diarrhea, and he got two big doses of Pepto-Bismal everyday to help, but everything stayed about the same. He went in for check-ups every few months because he would seem a little down or like he didn't feel well. Even though he had a few problems, Dr. Mike and Dr. E were amazed that he had lived as long as he had. Usually, it was a slight infection, and with a course of antibiotics, he'd be better in just a few days. I think some of his "episodes" were planned just so he could go for a ride in the truck and get Mommy's undivided attention for a week or so. Most times, there was nothing wrong with him except for a really bad hotspot, and he'd come home with a huge bald spot and what looked like road rash.
Late last year, he really started dragging. He always looked really tired, and was sometimes hesitant to eat. I told hubby that I didn't think he'd make it through the winter. The last couple of weeks, he has looked really miserable. We've been giving him lots of treats, and supplementing his regular diet with broth and proteins. One bowl a day is mixed with plain yogurt to try to replenish some of the good critters in his belly. Surprisingly, he loves the yogurt! We always tried to keep as many calories in him as we could so he always had plenty of opportunity to absorb nutrients. I noticed a couple of weeks ago that he was looking really skinny and I could feel most of his bones.
This winter has been pretty consistently cold. Especially cold and wet and frozen for the Southeast. He has a pretty cozy house with a comfy bed and plenty of hay. He loves his house so much, he usually prefers it to coming in at night or when it's storming. Last night, the weather was supposed to be really bad, with rain and sleet and nasty cold temps. There was no way I was leaving him out. I cleaned up the office for him and brought him in at bed time. He was in for a few minutes, then jumped up because he needed to poop. I let him out, he did his business, then didn't want to come back in. I tried to bribe him with treats, but he just took it and ran to his house with it. He wouldn't come out no matter how much I tried. I think he thought he was in trouble. I went in and gave him a few minutes, then went back out with a leash. I almost had to drag him out, but he eventually came out of his house, went straight inside, and climbed on the sofa in the office. I made sure all the other pets were where they were supposed to be and went to bed. At five, the alarm went off and Little Girl started her usual routine of trying to pull the bathroom door open. I got up and decided to go ahead and make everybody's breakfast and clean up the office.
Elmo can't hold his poop, so that's why the "middle school lunchroom tile" office is perfect for him when he comes in. I've never punished him because I know he can't help it. I always tell him he's a good boy, and he usually is. It's fairly easy to clean up, but by no means is it pleasant. When I got to the door of the office, he was waiting for me. I let him out and went back to survey the damage. I noticed that there were a couple of dark puddles, but in my half-awakedness, I figured it was from eating dirt or something. On further inspection, I saw that there was one normal (orange) puddle, one a little darker, one reddish brown, and one that was almost all blood. There were also two large blood clots or tissue clumps that were almost as big as my hand. I knew this was bad.
As I got the supplies for clean up, I started getting really upset. Hubby was at his dad's for the last hunting weekend, so it was just me and the pets. I sent a text message around 5:30 to see if he was awake yet. I started to clean up and think about what would be the best thing to do. I couldn't just leave him and not take him to the vet. He would probably be there for at least a week for more tests, and maybe more surgery. I knew he was miserable, just by looking at his face. I knew that whatever was going on his belly couldn't feel good. He'll be ten in April and he's lived a pretty good life. People have asked me about their pets' health before and whether or not the pets should be put down. I always tell them it comes down to the pet's quality of life, and not what's best for the person.
Elmo's quality of life has diminished. He still eats, howls at the sirens, and meets me at the gate when I get home. But I know he's miserable. I know his bones hurt by how hard it is for him to get up sometimes, if he even bothers to get up. When we're home on the weekends, he usually finds a spot in the yard and stays there all day. He'll get up to follow the sun and go potty. I'm sure he does the same during the week while we're at work. He's become very thin despite the amount of food he eats. He's not drinking as much water, sometimes not more than a half-gallon out of his four gallon bucket in a day.
While I was cleaning up, I started grieving. I knew it was time, but I also knew that I wasn't ready. He used to be Mommy's Little Monster, and grew up to be Momma's Old Man. He is such a good boy, the neighbors have even come to trust his barking during the night. They have also learned his barks, and know when something fishy is going on just by which bark they hear. I've been trying to get ready for him dying for several months, but it hasn't helped. I've been a blubbering mess, but I know it's for the best.
After a difficult decision and a few phone calls, I loaded up the Old Man, stopped by to pick up my good friend Liza, and headed for the vet. Dr. E was great. She talked with me about how we could do some bloodwork, maybe a course of antibiotics, but he may only get another month or two. That, and we really had to consider his quality of life. He'd lost 8 pounds in less than two weeks, despite a healthy appetite. He had a lot of muscle atrophy in his back legs, his winter coat never came in and he was shedding like it was the middle of summer. While we were talking, he just laid in the floor. He didn't even look up when Dr. E was rubbing on his hind quarters. He's usually pretty sensitive and didn't like his back end touched. We all decided that the best thing for him was for us to let him go.
Dr. E gave us a few minutes and came back. I held his head in my lap while she found a vein in a back leg. She gave him just enough to relax him, then finished in another vein. He left us peacefully. Dr. E let Liza and me stay as long as I needed to say goodbye. I shared a few special memories of him with Liza, and she made sure we didn't stay so long that my only memory of him will be my last. The local Humane Society was there today doing a Microchip Clinic. They offer private cremation, and will take care of every thing. He'll come home in a couple of weeks, so we'll never forget him, and we'll be able to keep him close to our hearts.
He's a good boy, and Momma loves him.
Almost two years ago, Elmo got very sick. He spent two weeks at the vet undergoing tests trying to figure out what was going on. We were afraid it was cancer because of the way his white blood cell count would skyrocket. There was an obvious raging infection somewhere, but he only responded negatively to antibiotics or any treatment. Dr. Mike did exploratory surgery looking for anything that might have been causing his problems. What he found was an enlarged lymph node deep in the mesentary of his intestines. Because the lymph node was so large, it was cutting off circulation to most of his small intestines, and left alone, he would have died from septicemia. We considered it good news that it wasn't cancer, but he was still going to have a long road ahead. Dr. Mike and Dr. E removed three-fourths of his small intestines, and hoped. They told us that he would probably have chronic diarrhea for the rest of his life, and that may not be very long. I think the collective estimate was about six to eight months. They both felt that it would be best for him to come home as soon as possible to spend as much time with us as he could. Because of his "short bowel syndrome" his two bowls of food a day turned into a four to five bowl-a-day habit. He had to have a higher volume of food spread out over the whole day so that he could get the calories and nutrients he needed to survive.
When we got him home, he ran around the yard like nothing was wrong. You would never have known that just two weeks earlier, he could barely lift his head. He barked and barked and howled and howled, letting everyone in the neighborhood know he was home. He was so excited. Sure enough, he did have the chronic diarrhea, and he got two big doses of Pepto-Bismal everyday to help, but everything stayed about the same. He went in for check-ups every few months because he would seem a little down or like he didn't feel well. Even though he had a few problems, Dr. Mike and Dr. E were amazed that he had lived as long as he had. Usually, it was a slight infection, and with a course of antibiotics, he'd be better in just a few days. I think some of his "episodes" were planned just so he could go for a ride in the truck and get Mommy's undivided attention for a week or so. Most times, there was nothing wrong with him except for a really bad hotspot, and he'd come home with a huge bald spot and what looked like road rash.
Late last year, he really started dragging. He always looked really tired, and was sometimes hesitant to eat. I told hubby that I didn't think he'd make it through the winter. The last couple of weeks, he has looked really miserable. We've been giving him lots of treats, and supplementing his regular diet with broth and proteins. One bowl a day is mixed with plain yogurt to try to replenish some of the good critters in his belly. Surprisingly, he loves the yogurt! We always tried to keep as many calories in him as we could so he always had plenty of opportunity to absorb nutrients. I noticed a couple of weeks ago that he was looking really skinny and I could feel most of his bones.
This winter has been pretty consistently cold. Especially cold and wet and frozen for the Southeast. He has a pretty cozy house with a comfy bed and plenty of hay. He loves his house so much, he usually prefers it to coming in at night or when it's storming. Last night, the weather was supposed to be really bad, with rain and sleet and nasty cold temps. There was no way I was leaving him out. I cleaned up the office for him and brought him in at bed time. He was in for a few minutes, then jumped up because he needed to poop. I let him out, he did his business, then didn't want to come back in. I tried to bribe him with treats, but he just took it and ran to his house with it. He wouldn't come out no matter how much I tried. I think he thought he was in trouble. I went in and gave him a few minutes, then went back out with a leash. I almost had to drag him out, but he eventually came out of his house, went straight inside, and climbed on the sofa in the office. I made sure all the other pets were where they were supposed to be and went to bed. At five, the alarm went off and Little Girl started her usual routine of trying to pull the bathroom door open. I got up and decided to go ahead and make everybody's breakfast and clean up the office.
Elmo can't hold his poop, so that's why the "middle school lunchroom tile" office is perfect for him when he comes in. I've never punished him because I know he can't help it. I always tell him he's a good boy, and he usually is. It's fairly easy to clean up, but by no means is it pleasant. When I got to the door of the office, he was waiting for me. I let him out and went back to survey the damage. I noticed that there were a couple of dark puddles, but in my half-awakedness, I figured it was from eating dirt or something. On further inspection, I saw that there was one normal (orange) puddle, one a little darker, one reddish brown, and one that was almost all blood. There were also two large blood clots or tissue clumps that were almost as big as my hand. I knew this was bad.
As I got the supplies for clean up, I started getting really upset. Hubby was at his dad's for the last hunting weekend, so it was just me and the pets. I sent a text message around 5:30 to see if he was awake yet. I started to clean up and think about what would be the best thing to do. I couldn't just leave him and not take him to the vet. He would probably be there for at least a week for more tests, and maybe more surgery. I knew he was miserable, just by looking at his face. I knew that whatever was going on his belly couldn't feel good. He'll be ten in April and he's lived a pretty good life. People have asked me about their pets' health before and whether or not the pets should be put down. I always tell them it comes down to the pet's quality of life, and not what's best for the person.
Elmo's quality of life has diminished. He still eats, howls at the sirens, and meets me at the gate when I get home. But I know he's miserable. I know his bones hurt by how hard it is for him to get up sometimes, if he even bothers to get up. When we're home on the weekends, he usually finds a spot in the yard and stays there all day. He'll get up to follow the sun and go potty. I'm sure he does the same during the week while we're at work. He's become very thin despite the amount of food he eats. He's not drinking as much water, sometimes not more than a half-gallon out of his four gallon bucket in a day.
While I was cleaning up, I started grieving. I knew it was time, but I also knew that I wasn't ready. He used to be Mommy's Little Monster, and grew up to be Momma's Old Man. He is such a good boy, the neighbors have even come to trust his barking during the night. They have also learned his barks, and know when something fishy is going on just by which bark they hear. I've been trying to get ready for him dying for several months, but it hasn't helped. I've been a blubbering mess, but I know it's for the best.
After a difficult decision and a few phone calls, I loaded up the Old Man, stopped by to pick up my good friend Liza, and headed for the vet. Dr. E was great. She talked with me about how we could do some bloodwork, maybe a course of antibiotics, but he may only get another month or two. That, and we really had to consider his quality of life. He'd lost 8 pounds in less than two weeks, despite a healthy appetite. He had a lot of muscle atrophy in his back legs, his winter coat never came in and he was shedding like it was the middle of summer. While we were talking, he just laid in the floor. He didn't even look up when Dr. E was rubbing on his hind quarters. He's usually pretty sensitive and didn't like his back end touched. We all decided that the best thing for him was for us to let him go.
Dr. E gave us a few minutes and came back. I held his head in my lap while she found a vein in a back leg. She gave him just enough to relax him, then finished in another vein. He left us peacefully. Dr. E let Liza and me stay as long as I needed to say goodbye. I shared a few special memories of him with Liza, and she made sure we didn't stay so long that my only memory of him will be my last. The local Humane Society was there today doing a Microchip Clinic. They offer private cremation, and will take care of every thing. He'll come home in a couple of weeks, so we'll never forget him, and we'll be able to keep him close to our hearts.
He's a good boy, and Momma loves him.
