It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Not according to statistics available. Not according to the handouts. Not according to what you get when you select the Gold Standard treatment plan from the available options. Not according to the plan. Not according to what she deserved; what she’d earned.
Every day, week and month over the last one-two years was a known gift. At 13 (then) Rosie was an old pup by large breed standards. Any healthy time, in fact any time at all, was treated as a bonus and for the most part she got anything she wanted the last couple of years. Personal chairs, a reserved spot on the floor, ice in the water bowl, ongoing daily walks, back seat folded down in the car, the list goes on. While remaining a perfect picture of health (no meds, no dietary issues, no special conditions) her long-term was a recurring, if not routine discussion point.
A more heartbreaking and gut-wrenching outcome could not have been predicted. Virtually every adverse post-chemo side-effect: Check–she suffered from it. A more deserving pup of a more dignified end I couldn’t imagine. Try as we could we were unable to give her what she’d earned.
As Rosie mustered a last bit of pep to walk the handful of steps from her tube-filled holding cage into what would be her final trip to an exam room I continued to struggle with the decision.
Still a story to tell; for now still time to be a touch angry.
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| A Final Trip to the Park 06/09/12 |
AniMal