Good Night, Bear

It was an unusually quiet morning. On any given day, I'd wake around 5:30 to a babbling baby or my dog, Bear, barking to be let out. This morning, I looked at the clock and it was 6:15. Delicious was still asleep. Bear was, too. Typically I'd be happy for the extra 45 minutes of sleep and the peaceful quiet. But this was a sad morning.

There was no barking. Bear laid in the same spot he was in 12 hours earlier. He couldn't move, except maybe a few inches. I could hear him stirring in the night, his nails sweeping the floor. The evening before he had great trouble walking, his thin legs trembled as he struggled to stand. He couldn't muster up the energy to go out. But he held it. Even when in so much agony, he was such a good boy. I tried to help him by lifting him, but he yelped and nipped at me because of his soreness. I fed him bits of luncheon ham that I know he's not supposed to have, but he loved. He ate it out of my hand, seeming to enjoy it. I'm glad he did because I think he otherwise felt  incredible pain.

The back story, as some of you may know, is that last fall he had developed a terrible skin condition that was the manifestation of an enlarged liver. Given his age, we decided to not do any invasive medical interventions, and just give him as much comfort as possible. I expected it would be a matter of a few weeks before he'd pass. I purchased Sam-E liver supplements to give him with his food. Months went by, and he seemed to do well. His hair grew back some, he had a good appetite, barked, enjoyed going out (though he could no longer run).

Yesterday evening I heard my mom--who had been urging me to put him to sleep for a couple weeks--talking to him.  She said something about his not being able to stand. I had just gotten home from work and was feeding Delish in his room. Then G came in and told me Bear was having trouble getting up. I knew--finally had to face the fact--that this was it. I cried without even seeing him, knowing that the time had come. I had put off the inevitable, convincing myself that the dog wanted to live, and had much life left in him. Just that morning he was barking and begging for table scraps.

But his listlessness and trouble walking was a clear sign it was time. Every once in a while he'd lift his head up, perhaps an attempt to get up, but then let it fall down again. He had lost a lot of weight in the past couple months. His head felt boney, the healthy fat and life gone. But he ate well; he just wasn't metabolizing the food. So I called the vet last night and made an appointment for this morning to put him to sleep. It was scheduled for 9:30. G and I took part of the morning off. We had planned to put him on a blanket to carry him out to the car.

I went about the usual routine of changing the baby, feeding him and playing with him for a bit. I went check on Bear occasionally. I gave him more ham, which he still enjoyed gently. I cried knowing that it would be his last meal. He perked up a bit after that. I opened the door to see if he could go out. He struggled with all his might, and got up and went. He clearly had been holding it all night. It seemed that getting up and walking around, made him feel better. I watched him in the yard. I had hope that maybe last night's episode was just a passing thing. So did G. He kept asking me if I really wanted to do it. My mom was encouraging me to have mercy on the dog and put him out of his misery. I let him out to walk freely to the front yard and the driveway. He looked like he had more energy. It was an agonizing decision, because his eyes were still bright and he still enjoyed his food.

He walked around and came to me and put his head under my hand to be petted. He wanted to go back inside, but I knew that if I let him in, he'd probably go back to laying down, and we'd have to carry him out for sure. So I had a good cry as a sat on the front stoop and petted him for a while. Then I put his leash on him and walked him to the car. He was always such a good dog and rode well in the front seat. It was like old times, and he got in, with much trouble, but he tried really hard. He ended up just sitting on the floor of the front passenger side.

We got to the vet's office and he had a lot of trouble getting out, but again was so obedient and tried his hardest. It was awful watching him try to get out of the car, but he made it. And then he could barely walk up the three stairs, falling, and having to start over. Though it broke my heart to see, it just made it more clear that it was time.

We were one of the first appointments of the day. Only one person sat in the waiting room. Lucky guy was probably waiting to pick up his pup after getting kenneled or something.  I told the receptionist that I was there for the 9:30 appointment for Bear. She looked at me with pity and said sorry. That just made it all the worse. We were put in room #3 where there was a box of tissues at the ready. It all went pretty quickly. Apparently, there was a mass on his liver and it had grown. The vet assured us that it was definitely time.

G's dad, who is a dog lover, once said that we often hold on to our animals longer than we should...