Death in the Family

I arrived home late on Thursday after my Assessment Final. It was a 4 hr commute due to the approach of a wicked pacific storm and a bloody Seattle Seahawks football game. I hate football.
My family was pissy. Husband reported that Pippin, our dog, had been vomiting and pooping in beds. She was asleep when I got home and because this sort of behavior wasn't horribly out of character, I just muttered darkly and chalked it up to her being pissed off for some reason.

Friday morning she was found lying in bedding soaked with nasty, dark green vomit... She was decidedly not herself. I was cross though, as Husband had headed out early and I was frustrated having to try to keep the boys clear of her mess as I scrubbed the mess out of the carpet and out from under the baseboards... And then she threw up again, and again, and again. I was, by this stage concerned. She wasn't able to walk down the stairs to go outside. So I carried her. She spent the next 5 minutes straining to poo but not able to. Now I was really concerned. I roused UberNanny to watch the boys and I took her to the vet.

I should also note at this stage that we lost power late on thursday night, So there was no washer, no hot water or heat in our apartment as this all went down. Furthermore all the vets clinics were closed. We drove off the island to the Animal ER.

She was x-rayed, no obvious bowel obstruction, but given her history of munching on non-food substances we were still concerned. She was dehydrated and desperately needed fluids. A cost estimate for conservative treatment and a two day hospitalization was placed in front of me. I almost had a stroke. I made the decision to have them medicate her for pain, her vomiting and get some fluids on board in the hope that this was a localized irritation to her gut that would pass. I gave her a cuddle and left her for the night. A check-in at bedtime reassured me. She'd not vomited and seemed to be more comfy.

At 7.30am the next morning the phone rang with the news that she had begun vomiting and also now had diarrhea. Both were now bloody and foul smelling, they had began antibiotics in the hope of combatting an infection. My fears of a bowel obstruction were now probable. I sped over with the boys in tow. We'd exhausted all her medical options, leaving the more expensive surgical avenues the next logical places to explore. I'd exhausted our funds though and were treating her on borrowed money. She was clearly really sick and in lots of pain. But her tail wagged and she looked at me with an expression which said "Can we go home now?". My heart broke. I took her outside for a final stroll around the hospital car park. Thank God for the people who left some grass and some blackberries for her to sniff a bit.

She wanted to drink from the puddles. I let her. And then I took her inside wth me, left the boys in the waiting room. I curled her up on my lap and the sweet vet injected a large syringe of pink liquid into the iv lock in her leg. She faught the sensation a bit, and made a little chuffing sound. By this stage the vet was injecting the smaller clear syringe which I knew would stop her heart. I told her what a good dog she was and how much I loved her. And then she was gone.

She would have been 10 on Christmas eve. She was probably the worlds most naughty dog and she made me crazy. She was unreliable around other dogs (and attacked our neighbors pet) but unfailingly patient with my babies. She'd been crated for years when we adopted her but put up with the craziness of toddlers. She steadfastly refused to come when she was called her entire life, except when she took an obedience class, and then she was a star. When she was done with class she went back to the way she wanted to do things. She had a never ending appetite for human food and her favored cheap dog food. She'd eat until she made herself sick. And then she'd chew on the kids toys. She hated hoses and the vacuum and would attack both with playful relish. At least once a day she would "hucklebutt"; this involved a spinning, jumping sprint around the house which quickly taught both boys to leap onto the closest piece of furniture to avoid being taken out. She weighed 40 lbs and most of that was muscle but the place she loved to sit best of all was on your lap. She was a bull terrier but she thought she was a poodle.

I'm so sorry she died that way and not quietly in her sleep the way all good dogs should. I loved her and I miss her.

Pippin. Pip-squeek. Pip squeeky-pants. 12/24/1996-12/16/2006