When to Say When...

One of the things I’ve been dreading most since I found out Lulu had cancer was making the dreaded decision to call it quits. While I’ve never been in a life and death situation myself, I can only imagine what a difficult decision it is to finally let go and succumb to the inevitable. But making that decision for someone else, well that’s just cruel.

Until we devise a way to truly communicate with our loving pets, it’s impossible to really know what they want and how they feel.  We can guess, based on watching them day-by-day, but how can you really know?

Since discovering Lulu’s cancer has spread to her spine, I’ve noticed week-by-week a steady decline in energy level. Before, she would nudge me in the mornings and evenings to remind me it was time for a meal and a walk. Now, she simply sleeps. On walks, she takes care of business as soon as we walk out the door and pulls me to go back to the house. She actually seems miserable as I force her to just go a block, thinking the exercise will do her good.

I’ve stopped forcing her. Now we head out to the yard, where she does her business and we call it a day. By Sunday I knew that things were declining quickly, but it wasn’t until Monday morning that I realized that the dreaded day was upon me.

At 4 AM on Monday, 45 minutes after drinking an entire bowl of water – Lulu’s meds cause dehydration – she started to make vomiting sounds. I turned on the light and found her under my desk struggling to vomit, but nothing was coming up. Her hackles were up, and suddenly I noticed that her body was completely mutated. Her stomach was three times its regular size. I knew from reading Marley and Me (not recommended) that she was suffering from bloat and that we needed to get to the ER asap.

Bruce and I rushed her to VERG where she was quickly taken to get x-rays. The x-rays confirmed the bloat. For those who aren’t familiar with this condition, bloat is the second leading killer in dogs after cancer (of course Lulu is going down the list!) and is common in dogs that are deep chested like German Shepherds and Rotties. It can occur when a dog gulps down too much air when eating or drinking. The air gets trapped in the stomach and causes it to expand. As it expands it can crush organs around it, and begin to twist in more severe cases.

The x-ray showed that Lulu’s stomach had expanded to a size I can’t even describe. You just have to see it. Below is the image. The black oval that basically takes up the entire frame is her stomach.

 

Here is what a dog’s stomach is supposed to look like.

It was absolutely frightening to see this. Luckily though her stomach hadn’t flipped. I was told that if this happened I would have no choice but to put Lulu down as the surgery would be too hard on her considering her age and health.

To push out the air trapped in Lulu’s stomach, the doctors intubated her and pushed liquids into her stomach which forced the air to come out the other end. I was told it was a very stinky procedure. Luckilyit worked and her stomach shrank back to normal size. Lulu stayed at the vet for 24 hours as they kept her under observation.

She came home Tuesday night. She’s doing well, but not great. She’s having trouble walking, is only slightly interested in eating, and only wants to sleep. Also, because of the intubation, she’s having some trouble breathing. She begins to cough profusely whenever she barks. 

It’s a stark contrast to the Lulu I remember just a month ago. Because of this people have been coming by to say their goodbyes. My best friend and Lulu’s roommate for over eight years flew in from SF this pas weekend. Lulu’s buddy Nathan and his wife are coming on Friday from Oakland. And my mom flies in on Monday to spend a week with us.

I’m hoping I’m being premature about all the goodbyes, but I have a feeling that when it’s time for me to say my final goodbye to my best friend of 15 years it’ll be a quick decision. 

Comments

[Kelly]

There is nothing harder than what you are prepping to go through. We had to put my Great Dane asleep a year ago due to cancer making her bowels fail suddenly. We weren't even aware she had cancer at the time and it was a shock and heartwrenching.

My thoughts and prayers are with you and LuLu.

[noelle simpson]

oh no! I contributed my short story back in April of 2007 (Brooklyn, my 3 legged labrador). I was surfing the internet and wanted to check in and see how Lulu was doing. Upon reading your latest update, I burst into tears. I am so sorry to hear the latest turn of events. my heart goes out to you and Lulu, and everyone who's life she touched. please keep up the amazing work you are doing.

[Jenny]

...and another one here in tears. I know how this feels--and for all that we know what's right and compassionate it doesn't really feel better, does it?

But it IS better, and I'm sure she feels how much you love her and frankly, if she's anything like our dogs have been(and I'm sure she is), she can sense your concern and all your emotions. The most stressful things to her would be pain(which you can only do so much to help, and you're doing it)and any negative, unpleasant emotions, of which she has none from you. She only gets good ones.

Our lab Ty was 13 when he suddenly, without warning, started failing last October. It turned out he had a tumor in his abdomen-oddly, the same thing that killed my husband 6 months earlier. We adopted Ty when he was a small pup after years of waiting for the right time and a house with a yard, etc.. He was our kid and best friend(I'd call him "Nana" after the nursery dog in Pater Pan, since he was so smart he seemed to do anything for us-including babysitting).
I had to make the decision to put him down on my break from work at lunch, whch also happened to be the week of our wedding anniversary-my first without Pete, who was the strong silent one whenever we had to make vet visits.
I'd taken Ty in in the morning, hoping they could help him. No dice. I wasn't ready but he was. He loved the vet so he was looking more alert than he had for hours when I went back to the vet's to say goodbye.
There's simply no way not to feel guilty when the time comes, but as against our nature as it is to do it, it is of course the best way to relieve suffering when there's no other option.

I hope this is premature too, but knowing that they can't be here forever with us is part of our human burden. I know you make every day count with Lulu, though-and that's all that matters. My heart goes out to you both. You write about her beautifully, and it's brave to share this. I'm glad you have.

[Daisy]

The tripod gods brought me a tripod last year for Christmas. Well, she wasn't that way when we got her, but she needed surgery after her breeder's boyfriend took his anger out on the tiniest (and only white) baby in the litter. She was four weeks old when we got her. What we thought was a Chihuahua turned out a year later to be a Mini Pin. I can only pray karma will catch up to him. Tripods are AWESOME and Misha Moo Bear makes me look at everything a whole new way. I lost my 15 year old Chihuahua a year ago (there are no words for the pain) but Misha has helped fill that spot and then some. Boy, those tripods are full of life! As for the pain of losing a baby . . . I've seen too many fur kid faces that have grown old and grey with me. There is always that day that they will look at you and in their eyes you can see that they've had enough. Waking up is too much for them. I always try to tell myself that it's the kindest thing to do to let them go instead of prolonging a painful life because I'm not ready to let go. I miss them terribly and cry for days, but in the end I'm at peace knowing I did what was right. Just remember, the easy thing isn't always right, and the right thing isn't always easy, but you'll rarely regret doing the right thing. Let's all be thankful for each day of our lives that we can spend with a tripod that makes the sun shine just a little brighter!