Holiday break!!

Needless to say, I'm overjoyed to be on holiday break. It's now Tuesday.
Pete has been declining for the past week. Last January, he was diagnosed with a bladder problem, either cancer or stones, but I opted not to have it explored through surgery. He's a 14-year-old dog, and surgery seemed too extreme. He was in fairly good shape through the summer, other than loss of bathroom control. Paul has been particularly compassionate about it, cheerfully cleaning up messes, mopping the kitchen floor, and reinterating, "He can't help it. We still love him." For awhile, we tried doggy diapers, but they didn't fit well enough and kept sliding off. His problems caused me to have to give him numerous baths. His ribs and spine and hip bones began to stick out sharply. I could feel them more and more as I bathed him. But he was still eating regularly, as he lost more weight.

I learned last Monday at the vet's that his weight loss is extreme. Pete is down to half his body weight, this in spite of still eating. The doctor did a blood test, and saw elevated enzymes of this or that, but said he will not be able to conclude exactly what the problem is without a lot of fancy, expensive tests. He thinks it could be liver or kidney failure or a stomach mass. I told him I'd think about whether to pursue more tests and diagnoses---for what purpose? It's unlikely there's a cure for doggy liver cancer or whatever it is. On Tuesday, Pete stopped eating and drinking. He walked only in circles, sometimes falling. Paul and I set up a little bed of pillows on the floor and have been giving him water through a dropper.

A week has passed, with no change. He's weak and sleeps a lot, but sometimes when I come into his line of vision, his eyes light up and he breathes a little harder. Once in a while, he wakes up and yelps, so Paul and I take turns holding him for awhile. Two nights ago, so his middle-of-the-night sounds wouldn't disturb Liberto, who doesn't sleep well, Paul and I set up Peté's little bed in the t.v. room, and we both slept out there, me in the easy chair, Paul on the couch.

If it can be done, I want Pete to depart in peace at home, rather than be shuttled off to the vet's for any futile attempts at a cure, probed with needles and stuffed with tubes. Most of all, I don't want him separated from us in his final hours. Our dog Sandy had to stay at the vet's in a cage to alleviate her suffering until she got so bad that she had to be euthanized anyway. We went to the vet's office to be with her for that procedure, which still haunts me.

The past few days have been pretty emotional for us. While I know that many people in the world have lost far, far more than just a pet, we're gripped with sadness at losing a friend of 14 years. I think I'm also sad that this pending loss signals the end of a happy phase in our lives, when our furry friends---as well as we---were young and vibrant. I associate Gus and Pete with the people Liberto and I used to be years ago when we acquired them. I can still see Gus sitting on top of the couch, happily licking the back of Liberto's salty-tasting neck for as long as he could get away with it. I remember Paul and a third-grade classmate playing with Pete in our back yard (before we got the privacy fence up), and Pete becoming wildly excited and bolting off into the thick woods behind our house in his crazy run, with Paul, Tyler and I running madly after him, trying to surround and catch him. Paul in third grade??

Today is also the 20th anniversary of my father's passing. Guess who Liberto is on the phone with right now? Cousin Carlos, whose birthday will always be linked in my mind with Dad's death. In Venezuela, 20 years ago, Carlos' birthday call to the familia's house preceeded by minutes that sad call from the states.