I think the last time Mac seemed normal was at 6 Tuesday, when he slept on my chest. Gradually over the evening he lost mental acuity. By 1 am I had entirely given up and commenced crying, and we said out goodbyes. It was sweet that he fell asleep for fifteen minutes with his face on my foot, my favorite position.
I really thought we'd go to the vet in the morning. We knew he couldn't spend any of the night unattended. Sleeping on the floor with him would only work if he'd slept. The way he was bumping into walls like a Roomba meant I had to walk with him. I kept squirting water in his mouth to keep him hydrated.
If he'd stayed confused and whiny, that would have worked. At three he started to cry and get stuck in corners. I found that if I pressed my nose against his and we breathed in sync, that seemed to calm him. At four I woke Gary up so he could spell me. He had woken up a few times at night to give useless suggestions.
I think he tended to the dog for fifteen minutes before he announced we were going to the emergency vet. The slide that had seemed gradual to me must have been a dramatic change to someone who'd slept through the three hour decline.
I don't think I'm giving away any spoilers by saying that on a tv show I watch, a major character just died after a speedy decline. (Shhh - don't tell.) The other characters in the show were unprepared, plus there was a difference in diagnosis in the medical community on the show. (No one knows what show I'm talking about? Good.) I couldn't help thinking, "Augh! It's just like [this tv show]."
We might have had a difference in diagnosis if we'd seen our regular vet. The 24 hour ER vet was a tall woman with curly hair and scratches on her collarbone. She said, "If his kidneys are failing, that can cause heightened blood pressure, and at times that can lead to a detached retina." It was a very capable diagnosis.
After she ran tests she sat us down and said, "His kidney numbers are fine." (Hurrah Gary! He's really tried to lay off the treats.) "He's a little dehydrated." (Go me! Only a little dehydrated.) "However, his liver numbers are high and he has an excessive amount of calcium in his blood, and in a dog that's an indicator of cancer. With his symptoms it seems that he has brain cancer."
Whaaaa - huh? I said, "But how would he get brain cancer overnight?"
"Well, you described weakness in his legs that began a year ago." And of course, I had. I was just so used to carrying the dog around everywhere I'd forgotten it was because his legs were wobbly. And there was a year of puking, and limping, and trembling. Everything I thought was age could be neurological. And frankly, is anyone going to notice neurological issues in our epileptic / MS family? Dog can't walk a straight line? Join the club. Convulsions in our family would be completely ignored. (Another tv show callout.)
We'd already resigned ourselves to putting him to sleep because he was so miserable. The kidney / cancer switcheroo was immaterial. I did kind of want our vet to do the deed, but Gary thought we should have this doctor take care of it. (Again, a couple siding with doctors, just like the show.)
Even sedated Mac was miserable. The doctor pushed the plunger and I waited for his eyes to glaze over, but instead they rolled downward. She left us alone to say our goodbyes now that he was gone.
While we were petting him his mouth opened and he made a clicking sound.
"Involuntary muscle spasms," I thought. "And that's the same clicking sound Mom made while she was dying."
He did it again. Then his stomach gurgled.
Gary said, "I think I can feel a pulse." I couldn't feel it, but he was still warm.
Eventually the pulse faded away, or Gary said it did.
We told the receptionist we were having him cremated, and then Gary added:
"We don't need an urn; we'll just put him in with the other dogs." He explained to the receptionist, "We have a little coffin on our mantle where we keep all the dog's ashes."
(No, we don't have a little coffin on our mantle.) "Casket," I assured her. "Like a medieval-type casket."
We decided to take the day off and alternately sleep and cry. Gary asked me to not pick up the dog food or dishes, so I won't. I promised him I would start peeing in the hallway so he could still step barefoot in cold pee. We promised to start cuddling and kissing each other more. ("[He'd] want us to love each other as much as we can now."- TV show.)
So, sad times here, tempered with a newfound ability to sleep uninterrupted and eat unaccompained by demanding barks. Still, we miss our dog.
Ellen, I am so sorry. *hugs*
Posted by: Jammies | January 30, 2013 at 08:38 PM
Jammies - I've had one more cry than Gary, so I'm getting better. Thank you.
Posted by: TheQueen | January 30, 2013 at 09:12 PM
It's always painful, no matter that you know it's coming. Sympathies to you from the cats and me.
Posted by: Becs | January 31, 2013 at 05:08 AM
That's so sad, Ellen. You did the right thing for Mac. I know how it feels to know you're not bringing your dog home from the vet. RIP, Mac the Dog. You'll be missed, little man.
Posted by: Marcia | January 31, 2013 at 06:09 AM
So sorry. Why do cats and dogs have such short lives? We fall in love with them, enjoy them for a while and then they're gone.
My very most favorite cat did live for seventeen years. (That would be Friedlich, German for insouciant.) For a week after he died, I came home from work and balled loudly. It seemed to help.
Posted by: Arlene | January 31, 2013 at 07:19 AM
Thank you for sharing. Still sorry for your loss...Mac was an important part of your family. Also? For some reason known only to God, I had always envisioned him as a huge breed of dog...maybe that's because the stories you told about made me think he had a large personality. Ah Mac the Dog...you will be missed.
Posted by: Autumn | January 31, 2013 at 09:50 AM
I think that it's very important that I point out something about Arlene's sympathy post:
She probably meant "bawled", but what she actually wrote sounds like a LOT more fun.
I am sorry. We miss the pets that we loved forever, once they're gone.
Posted by: Tami | January 31, 2013 at 11:11 AM
After I had Rex put to sleep, I used to wake in the middle of the night thinking I heard him puking. I never thought NOT having to get out of bed to take a vomiting dog outside would make me so sad.
Posted by: Amy in StL | January 31, 2013 at 12:41 PM
Oh no. So sad, and so sorry.
Posted by: allison | January 31, 2013 at 02:01 PM
Oh, I'm so sorry. We lost our old Labrador in November and it still makes me cry to think about her. This is why actors who need tears think 'My dog is dead'. It's what happens, we all know that, but it's hard.
Posted by: Big Dot | January 31, 2013 at 02:01 PM
!!!!!!!!!!!!
hugs
!!!!!!!!!!
Posted by: Mrs. Hall | January 31, 2013 at 03:08 PM
I'm so sorry. Poor Mac. Poor lonely you and Gary. ((hugs))
Posted by: magpie | January 31, 2013 at 09:03 PM
I'm so sorry. I still mourn my little dog who died years ago.
Posted by: hattie | January 31, 2013 at 10:45 PM
Very sorry to hear about your loss. (((HUGS))) Mac was a lucky dog to be so loved.
Posted by: Gayle | February 01, 2013 at 05:50 AM
Tami, I balled loudly--it helped.
Posted by: Arlene | February 01, 2013 at 01:12 PM
So very sad. I'm sorry for you both. It's hard to bear the lack of their sounds.
Posted by: Candy | February 01, 2013 at 02:49 PM
I'm so sorry.
And Arlene, you win the internet.
Posted by: RockyCat | February 01, 2013 at 03:03 PM
I am sorry for your loss. Do talk to each other about how you feel, help each other. Mac would approve.
Posted by: ~~Silk | February 01, 2013 at 07:48 PM
Becs - Death is always such a surprise.
Marcia - Yep. And now W's dog Barney is dead, too.
Arlene - You know, I thought about editing your "balling," but I've corrected people many times and then found out I was wrong. (The pronounciations of "facade," "banal," and "gibberish" stand out in my mind.)
Autumn - We were searching today for a term to describe him other than "good dog" (because he was not) and someone suggested huge personality.
Tami - especially since it was loud.
Amy in StL - I should say something here about how I miss picking up his poop, but I do not. I miss his face on my foot.
Allison - Very very sad.
Big Dot - It's like my Mom. I never want to stop crying over Mom, and I know if I want to I can still cry over her. It's sort of a sign of respect.
Mrs Hall - thanks.
Magpie - We have tried scratching each other's bellies. It is not the same.
Hattie - You know, I still think of my first dog, Fred. He was the best. Gary keeps saying "Mac was such a good boy," and I have to remind him that no, Mac was the worst dog we ever had.
Gayle - He was a lucky lucky dog.
Arlene - Heh! You go Arlene.
Candy - I keep halfway listening for barks or sighs. There's a squeak somewhere in this house that sounds like him.
RockyCat - Coming from the person with a blog named after a cat, that means a little extra.
~~Silk - We have been helping each other. He agreed that Weds was awful, Thursday we were relieved that we weren't stepping in pee, and today we were back to being sad, but only sighing sad, not sobbing sad.
Posted by: TheQueen | February 01, 2013 at 11:55 PM
I can't imagine. Surely it will be a long and strange weekend for you. You're both in my thoughts.
Posted by: Friend #8 | February 02, 2013 at 11:05 AM
Huge personality for the win!!!
Posted by: Autumn | February 02, 2013 at 10:39 PM
Not that there are wins in this situation...I'll stop typing now.
Posted by: Autumn | February 02, 2013 at 10:40 PM
Friend #8 - it's getting better.
Autumn - hon, it's okay, type all you want.
Posted by: TheQueen | February 02, 2013 at 11:13 PM
I'm so sorry. I'm sending hugs down the wifi toward you.
There's nothing quite like losing such a loving, uncritical, devoted member of the family, and it's made all the more difficult by our culture's lack of structure for grieving when our pets die.
I hope you're comforted by the memory of the the obviously loving care you took of Mac, because comfort is what you deserve, and what you gave to him.
Posted by: Elsa | February 04, 2013 at 12:25 AM
I posted something a few days ago but apparently I didn't perform the right magic to make it stick or I posted it elsewhere. I'm not sure, since I was crying when I was typing.
Yes, I get weepy over other people's pets, too. Whenever someone I know loses a pet, I have to hug all of mine, because I've lost several in my life and it is never, ever, ever easy. In fact, right now I'm getting all blurry thinking about how you feel losing Mac and I will be annoying my critters as soon as I hit "post".
But it's better to love them and lose them then never to have the joy of cold noses thrust into your hand, furballs trying to smother you, and all that love you get when it's feeding time. If you are ever in SC, you are welcome to come by for as much petting and cuddling as you can stand (from the animals. I will keep a polite distance.)
Posted by: Murphy Jacobs | February 04, 2013 at 12:59 PM