I told Christian he needed to come back from working in NC by November because I was afraid of what would happen in case of a disputed election I live in Beverly, MA—hardly a stronghold of yahoos—but after seeing the Trump Rally (unmasked, natch) in October, I was worried.
All this is further proof that the danger never comes from the corner you expected it to come from.
At the beginning of the month I had 2 dogs. During the month of November I spent more that $1,000 on vet bills. And yet at the end of the month I only have 1 dog, because $600 or so was spent on my lab Hawkeye’s admittance and euthanasia by the emergency vet and the cremation of his remains.
God. I wish I hadn’t learned the phrase “Aftercare*” I wish a lot of things, but mostly I wish Hawkeye was still here.
It had always been Daisy that worried me—Daisy with EPI*** and behavioral problems. Daisy the German Shepherd who is clearly suffering the effects of overbreeding (see below***). In fact the first half of the enormous vet bill was because she was having exploding dog butt.
My husband took her to the vet—which is no humans allowed in, due to COVID 19. Apparently after pitching a dramatic fit (lying down on the parking lot ) she agreed to go in with the vet techs and was deemed to be “a doll.” They gave us antibiotics for her.
I sighed with relief. The election happened. After a few days it was called (no matter the Orange Man’s mischief) I sighed with relief again. More fool me.
The Monday after the election, Hawkeye was suddenly drastically ill** and we bundled him into the truck to take to the emergency vet. This was horrible.
Unless you lead a charmed life, you don’t get to your 40s without some uncomfortable things, and some unbearable things happening to you. So I hope you will understand that I am not exaggerating when I say this hurt as much as or probably more than the terrible things I have encountered in my adult life.
I will say this for the emergency vet—they were very good and very kind. The doctor who called us and explained what was wrong with him was very honest with us—we could spend $7,000 that we don’t have on a surgery, but we were likely to end up back there in 2-3 months.
So we said no. Or rather Christian said no because head experience with this before in other dogs.
There are many words and phrases that I hate hearing other people use—“functionality” and “low hanging fruit” are usually at the top of my list but “so you are choosing to stop care now***” takes the prize for phrases that make me want to bite someone.
So we “stopped care” on our beautiful, sweet little boy. Which was awful. They allowed us to come in and visit with him for “as long as we liked’ and told us to press the doorbell on the wall when we were ready for the vet to come in. He looked like he was 100 years old when he stumbled into the visiting room—not the bouncy waggy boy he and been 12 hours ago. I don’t think he knew who we were. In some ways this made it easier—it was clear he was ¾ of the way gone—we were just stopping him from hurting more. Even so, pressing that doorbell was hard.
I can’t help but think though, if he had been a human that came into a human ER they would have given him something for his pain but as he was a dog, they did not.
On the other hand, if he had been a human we wouldn’t have had a choice. They *would* have done whatever heroic treatment they could for him—he wouldn’t have been able to opt out of a painful and unpleasant end of life.
Everyone always says they want a surprise sudden death—not a lingering one, so this was the best thing for him. Suddenly unwell and then released from pain.
It’s less simple for us. We were shocked as much as grieved. Daisy, our German Shepherd and Hawkeye’s buddy, spent much of the day after we came back looking for her buddy “you left with him—where he now?”
I have learned things from this although I don’t know that they make me feel better-I have learned that I don’t believe in heaven or the Rainbow bridge. When he left, I knew he was gone. I have learned I can get through the most horrible things
When the Pet Crematorium called to tell us that they had Hawkeye “in their care” and asked what memorials we wanted from him I said yes to all of them because I was in shock and missing my little boy. Even as I agreed to them they sounded unappealing and ghoulish. Fur collected from him and prints of his feet would have been lovely—if we had collected them while he was still alive. As they were collected post-mortem they are…not something I’m going to put on my desk anytime soon.
*It appeared on my bill basically it means funerary expenses for my dog.
** Basically she has no pancreas
**Stomach cancer—apparently common in labs-which burst causing internal bleeding—also apparently common in labs.
