Ashes to Ashes...

They called yesterday; Lucy's remains were ready. I picked them up with much trepidation, but she sits on the desk beside me. At first, because I was uneasy, I thought I'd leave the box in the basement—after all, she slept there much of the time. Yet that seemed a bit bleak, so I brought her upstairs. Eventually I opened the cardboard box uncertain of what I'd find...a bag? A box? There was a gray urn. We decided we'll scatter some of her ashes here and some on one of the trails where we took her mountain biking. He said it's only ceremony and not really necessary, but we both feel its an important step—closure—to a dog life well lived.

Many of our friends have elderly dogs and I'm so sorry for what they'll also soon have to experience. When I was growing up, my mother would get another dog rapidly after we lost one. Her motive wasn't to replace the first pet, but to honor it by giving another "cast off" another chance. I couldn't agree more. When our first dog passed away after 18 magnificent years, I doubt I waited two weeks before bringing Lucy home. This time, however, I feel no urgency. Yes, I did tell my husband I'd try to wait a year, but even more than that is the time I need to heal. Lucy was sick for over two years with something (back, nose and cancer). I need to be away from that sadness for some time before I'm willing to take on another pup and its issues. For me, that means remaining dogless for some time.

Waves

It is the seventh day. Mostly I'm pretty good. Yesterday, for whatever reason was difficult though. I took myself on a couple of dogless dogwalks and tried to go places that I no longer took Lucy. However, even that made me sad.

Some friends stopped by in the late afternoon and ended up staying for dinner which was a great break. They gave us a card that tore me to shreds. It was written 'from Lucy' and thanked us for such a good life. Having put her to sleep, to get a thank you...even if written by Kathleen...cracked whatever reserve I'd built up. I still feel raw this morning.

Multiple Stages of Grief

I know some people find ludicrous the grief others experience over the loss of their pets. What they must not realize is how entwined one's life becomes with a pet. Multiple daily walks and feeding, brushing, washing, playing with them, patting them... They become your focus. You control their life and as a good dog owner, you are involved on an intimate level keeping them healthy, happy and engaged.

When Lucy was diagnosed with cancer a mere two weeks ago, that focus became quadrupled. Her care and comfort took on a whole new meaning and also became (unconsciously) a period in which to say goodbye and let her know how much we loved her. Knowing we were going to be the final arbitrator of her life was a struggle. At some point, all pet owners must come to grips with this. However, when she exhibited so much discomfort Monday evening, it was a quick decision—she let us know it was time and took the decision making on herself. Yes, I know, we made the call, but she made it abundantly clear she was miserable. There was little debate about what we had to do. Only for the briefest second did I doubt myself and that of course was because of the grief over losing her.

The next day I started cleaning up her things and was going to give away or toss most of it. (Not her collar; that I'll keep.) But I realized that was also grief talking—that somehow, by removing any sign of her, the grief would also disappear. Her food, her toys, some of her hiking paraphernalia, sure, others may be able to use them, but I don't need to get rid of everything. Not her beds, not her leashes, not her dog bag. Eventually we'll have another dog in the house.

I mentioned hearing her bark yesterday in the wee hours of the morning. Last night I dreamed that they'd made a mistake and Lucy was just fine and still with us. Another stage of grief: reversing the outcome. I wonder how many stages we'll go through?

I wrote my niece and told her that I was catching myself in the habits I'd accrued through my life with Lucy. Returning from work, any water left in my bottle, I'd pour in her water bowl. While making salads, any little pieces of vegetable she liked, I'd give her a scrap. I kept all the used plastic veggie bags for collection on dog walks and now what do I do with them? I hear her coming down the hall. I hear her old snorfely nose. I reach down to pat her or turn my head to see if she's in one of her many beds, but there is no Lucy to receive a pat. There is no water bowl, no beds. This is surely the most difficult stage of grieving—habit versus reality. I am constantly reminded of our loss.

Woof

I heard Lucy bark at 4:16AM this morning. I woke with a start. It was her gravelly, older dog, partially paralyzed larynx bark and was clear as a bell. At first I thought she was hurt, but realized she is at peace now and prefer to think she was saying goodbye or that she was okay; she was on her journey...that in front of her, lay a huge, sunny field filled with little rodents to snort out or bunnies to chase.

Saying Goodbye

I take part in an on-line dog forum. I don't personally know any of the participants, but they have been quite extraordinary in sharing their experience, thoughts and feelings. They've been particularly invaluable to me through Lucy's crises.

The last couple of days I've been struggling with ethics. How do I know when it's right for Lucy to go? Do I wait until she no longer can stand or eat? Do I put her to sleep while she's still functional? She's been panting a lot the last several days—rapid, prolonged panting, and I feel this is a sign of pain, not the prednisone. My husband and I talked about acupuncture over drugs as Lucy is so sensitive to pain killers; they turn her into a zombie. He felt any mitigating care wasn't fair either as it was just prolonging a life that was ready to let go. Yet he couldn't put her to sleep while she was still walking, eating and joining us for baby bike rides. And that too, was my dilemma.

When I posted my concerns and confusion in the dog forum, one wonderful participant sent me a private message offering her story. They chose to put their dog down before pain became his constant companion. Her note clarified my dilemma. It wasn't about me (and my ethical conundrum). It was about Lucy, her comfort and life quality. As a dog owner, you assume their care and well being. No matter how much we love them, the bottom line is their best interest regardless of our pain at losing them. So I talked to my husband about this and told him he needed to prepare himself emotionally for this eventuality...that this weekend may be the time we put her to sleep, if Lucy could wait that long.

Lucy is hard-wired for running. Each weekend we have taken her on baby bike rides of 1-2 miles. Each time she has been willing, eager and able. Walks have not been as enticing for her, so the last several days, she hasn't always been interested in her morning or afternoon outings. When she has gone, the walks have been quite short. The prednisone has kept her hungry, so her appetite is good. Last evening, sometime after she ate, she went into the back yard. For some reason, I felt I needed to watch her. She paced the yard. She looked like she wanted to poop, but couldn't; looked like she was trying to vomit, but couldn't. I rushed out to check on her and found her tummy quite swollen and rock solid and feared bloat. I called the hospital to bring her in. Luckily they were still open, and remained open until we got there. Kate wasn't on duty, but another vet, whom we like, was there along with some of the staff and techs I know well.

Lucy threw up several times in the van and I know she was uncomfortable doing this despite how awful she obviously felt. The techs and vet were wonderful. The vet said it wasn't bloat, but that something was definitely going on in Lucy's abdomen and she offered an xray. Instead, we opted for sleep. Lucy had been given 2-4 weeks to live and had just crested the half-way mark. She wasn't comfortable anymore and had started withdrawing from us. Yes, she might be in the same room, but she wasn't participating, wasn't watching us, wasn't keen on patting anymore.

The vet techs put a big, blanket-covered pad on the floor and a catheter in her back leg so that the drug would go in cleanly.We got down on the floor with her and were able to be with her until the end and then some. It was very fast, but our hearts are broken. She was such a fine, fine hound.

Positive Thinking & Reality

Lucy has started piddling again as she sleeps. I've put her back on Pro-In and hope that solves the issue. I've got an email in to the vet regarding dosage. My recollection was she started on 1 a day for X amount of time and then dropped to a 1/2 tab once a day.

She's drinking a huge amount of water and she is voraciously hungry. I could even say obsessively hungry. Every time she even thinks we might be heading to the kitchen, she's there ahead of us. Sometimes I'll find her just lying by her food bowl.

Is it the cancer? With all she's eating, she's losing weight. Are her kidneys failing? Her breathing is very congested, her heartbeat rapid. My sister said that perhaps the pneumonia will be her demise.

What a grim picture! I'm trying to think positively, but this morning it isn't easy. The reality is overwhelmingly depressing.

Taking things as they come

Saturday was a gorgeous day; one of those "foolers" that makes you think spring is here. I worked a bit in the yard, but really had to restrain myself from doing too much (and run the risk of plants getting zapped by a sure-to-happen frost). Lucy was in the yard with me happily soaking up the sun. So why was I depressed?

I think weekends are harder because I am with her 24/7 and can witness minute by minute how she is doing. Scrutiny that is that close reveals the changes I miss during the week while working. I don't always want to see them. She's slower. Her breathing is more labored. Her hacking is back. Her energy is low.

I decided to try focusing on the positive. She's here. Very positive. She eats well (in fact, she's always hungry). Positive. She still loves her cocktail ball. Positive. On Sunday, we decided to see if she'd be interested in a little run. Once those van doors opened, she leapt (yes, leapt) in. She ran (loped) about 2.5 miles. Now what's not positive about that?

I had made an appointment with a holistic vet, but my husband was not keen on my taking Lucy in. He recently lost his mother to cancer and saw her go through the medical gamut. He didn't want Lucy to suffer through that. I know it is different for a dog. The medication isn't as powerful; the acupuncture is supposed to ease discomfort. I cancelled the appointment, but may call her again and discuss in more details her costs and the procedures.

Perhaps I'm throwing darts at a moving target, but isn't this what everyone does when they fear they are losing someone (in this case, my lovely hound) they love?

Trying One's Best

Lucy's breathing is getting more labored—not as in she can't breathe (lung issues), but that her nose is constricted. It isn't that goobery, so I can only assume that the chronic rhinitis has the inside passages inflamed. She can't take the Piroxicam (anti-inflammatory) anymore as it conflicts with the Prednisone (for cancer). The two together cause awful, horrible ulcers. So what can I do? Should I do?

I've contacted a holistic vet and am waiting for a response. Purportedly she's worked with a lot of cancer patients and has had good success. With Lucy's blood count being so awful, I'm not expecting much change for the cancer, but perhaps she could do something for the rhinitis allowing Luce to breathe more comfortably. None-the-less, I don't want to subject Lucy to the awful anxiety of vet visits.

I hate this "should I do this?" or "am I neglecting if I don't" quandary. I want Lucy to be comfortable. Bottom line. Consciously I realize tossing this back and forth before speaking with the holistic vet doesn't do me any good and just causes me to be anxious while doing nothing for Lucy.

I guess I should just be patient until I have the conversation...

Drug Reconnaissance

Lucy's drugs are running low, so I emailed the vet and got her response. The Sucralfate, Famotidine and Metronidazole can be stopped and saved for later use, if necessary. The antibiotics should be continued for another couple of weeks (depending on what a second xray shows) and the Prednizone is a lifer, for as long as we are blessed with her presence.

Days of Grace

Lucy had been doing well since late Saturday. We didn't have any other bicycling opportunities, but she's been alert and perky on walks. And of course with prednisone, food has kept her focused. She's even been playing with her cocktail ball again and with the benefit of antibiotics, her nose isn't quite as drippy as it's been in the past.

Our contact at SVS, Becca, called the other day to check on Lucy and I gave her the bad news. I must say, we've been extremely fortunate with the vets we've chosen. They've been attentive, in general, and hugely supportive at present.

My husband made a comment last night that gave us pause. It was something we'd both been thinking, but had chosen not to voice—that old "if I don't say it, it doesn't exist" kind of thing. I mentioned how Lucy doesn't like as much rubbing as she used to, so I was only lightly rubbing her now. He said that's because her body hurts and is uncomfortable. We were both quite for a moment, said some 'lovies' to Luce and went on to another conversation. We didn't want to wallow in that sad knowledge.

Today it's snowing again. There isn't a lot of snow, but it is sticking. Lucy only went a half block today before turning around to return home. Her pace was slow.

Golden Day

Saturday was a day of grace. Lucy was not particularly responsive in the morning and although she ate, she wasn't interested in going on a walk. I needed to pick up some Metronidazole for the diarrhea, so brought her along for the ride and perhaps some stimulation(?).

When we returned home, our van was parked in front with the side doors open. My husband was planning on going on a bike ride and had loaded his equipment inside. When Lucy saw the van, her ears perked up and she trotted over to the van and leapt inside! Joy! We decided we'd all go and while he rode, we'd walk.

She wanted no part of walking; she wanted to run! So he grabbed her leash and rode while she loped along side at her steady 7.5 mile clip. Her ears were up, her eyes bright and if dogs can grin, she was wearing a big one! She was so happy and of course, so were we. She went about 2 miles perky as could be.

I expected her to be a bit slowed down this morning, but she's been as chipper as ever. She was bouncy on the walk.

Her drugs du jour are...for her upset tummy:

• Sucralfate (1 gm) 3 X day
• Famotidine (20 mg) 2 X day

For the diarrhea:

• Metronidazole (250 mg) 2 X day

For the pneumonia:

• Baytril (68 mg) 1.5 X day
• Clavamox (375 mg) 2 X day

For the cancer:

• Prednisone (20 mg) 1 tablet 2 X day for 1 week, then 1/2 a tablet 2 X day

Her food is a combo of:

• 1 lb. organic burger
• 1/3 lb. organic liver
• 1 1/3 cup organic brown rice
• 4.5 TB canola oil
• 9 grams fish oil (or 9-1,000 mg capsules drained)

She's gobbling up the food which is stupendous. If she continues on eating (and living), the vet advises me to add 3.3 grams of calcium carbonate and 2.9 grams of dicalcium phosphate. She'll also give me some other recipes so I can vary the diet if Lucy starts getting finicky.

More Results

The blood test came back. Eighty percent of Lucy's blood cells (white and red) are abnormal. The vet said she's at stage 5 cancer. Five? I didn't even know there were that many levels. She said it could be leukemia or some other kind of lymphoma, but that in either case, chemo therapy would not be effective, so we're spared debating that course of action. Kate said she'd never seen blood levels like this...this abnormal, I think is what she meant. I didn't ask.

Lucy has horrible diarrhea. It's contained, meaning she has control over it, but it's basically thick water and rice. Is it the drugs? The cancer? The fact that her diet has changed to burger, liver and rice? All of them could be affecting her. I'm waiting for a call back from the vet to see what she recommends doing about it...if anything.

Desert & Devastation

We just returned from 2 1/2 weeks in the southern California mountains and deserts. What a wonderful break from the snows and rains of this area. In fact, our timing was so good, we missed the torrential rains that caused the flooding and avalanches.

The first portion of our trip was more urban. My husband had to work a few days and we wanted to visit our nephew before he deploys. Both occasions placed us in big California cities. Lucy was quite sick during this period—lots of vomiting and phone calls to the specialty vet back home. We took her off the doxycycline for her nose and that helped, but didn't completely solve the issue. A type of chew that I've given her for years also seemed to upset her stomach, so that was also removed and her energy and well-being improved.

When her health was assured, we got her back to running with us, and though it usually wasn't daily, she did manage every other day. We kept her distance within 7 miles. She loved it! Happy! Spunky! Raring to go! One of the downsides of the desert were burrs from cactus. Not a good mix on dog feet. We had to be very vigilant where we took her and to check her paws carefully during and after. The picture is taken at Mt. Shasta. In January, the trail was covered in dry oak leaves. Lovely!

Surprisingly, or maybe not considering we were in dry deserts, her nose seemed to clear up—even off the doxy. There was still the reverse sneezing and some hacking, but not the constant goobery schnoz.

We returned to cold, damp, foggy weather. Lucy's nose immediately reacted. Constant. And her health went rapidly down hill. From being energetic and running miles, suddenly she wasn't eating or wanting to go on walks. When I got home from work and she didn't even raise her head from her bed, I knew something was horribly wrong. Pneumonia again?

I took her to the vet two days ago and got the results yesterday. I won't hear about pneumonia or not until I get those results today, but yesterday was awful—she has lymphoma. The vet said doing nothing, she might live a couple of weeks to a month; with prednisone, I could double that; with chemo, perhaps a year. The vet gave her some antibiotics while there and that seemed to revive her. For the first time in days, she ate and wanted to go on a walk.

All the "cure" methods are limited; the cancer isn't going away. The chemo would involve weekly vet visits with 1/2 hour drips—and that would be for 6 months or more. Lucy is going on 12 and hates the vet. (Who could blame her? She's spent so much time there in the past 2 years!) We don't want to make her miserable by constant vet visits, even if it might prolong her stay with us. I'm willing to do the prednisone. The vet said it could put the cancer temporarily into remission, but prednisone has its own downside.

When my husband returns tonight, we'll talk about which options we want to pursue. It's awful playing the Final Arbitrator in someone else's life. Although we'd love Lucy to live years and years, we'd want those years to be healthy, happy years. If her time is now, we need to be able to graciously and lovingly allow her to comfortably enter it.

Snow's Almost Gone!

Hurrah! The snow is almost gone! We've had 3 days of 40 degrees and the grass and pavement are visible. After one last shovel to open the driveway to the street yesterday, I drove for the first time since the 18th .

Molly is with us again. Lucy is getting used to her, but still growls if the puppy approaches while Lucy is getting pats.

Lucy is done with her Clavamox. I'm curious if her nose will stay bacteria-free. Fingers crossed; I can't imagine life on antibiotics is any better for a dog than for humans. The only thing that has come back with a vengeance is her reverse sneezing.

Hungover

Lucy is decidedly wiped out from Christmas. We were with in-laws Christmas day and Lucy was the recipient of many doggie presents which were all food. Being a good mom, I only gave her one, but there were lots of other people around and they were all treating her—she even got turkey! She's barely budged today and hasn't even sniffed her breakfast. It is so obvious she's hungover.

More Snow

The snow keeps coming. I've shoveled twice and am buying stock in Ibuprofen. We're dog-sitting Molly for five days. The dogs are in seventh heaven with this weather. Lucy is definitely showing old dog enthusiasm—spunkier, but not lively, while Molly is doing a drag course around the yard.

A little sad on a beautiful day

It's sunny and lovely today, but very cold. I'm a bit sad which seems odd when it is beautiful outside. Lucy's breathing is labored today and her hacking and gagging have become quite pronounced. I fear her larynx is becoming worse and creating problems.

I spoke with a neighbor yesterday whose daughter had to put her dog to sleep. The dog was fairly young, but had increasingly complex medical issues. In the end, her body just couldn't keep up with her mind. I applaud the woman for understanding her dog had lost its quality of life. That takes enormous courage. I hope I recognize that for Lucy when the time comes.

We're dog-sitting her cousin, Molly. Molly's 10 month-old energy seems to be enervating for Lucy instead of energizing. Molly demands attention and is as big as Lucy and perhaps heavier. Although she recognizes Lucy-as-Boss, she crashes into her, wriggles past her, is in her face. I want the dogs to work it out themselves, but at this point, unless I intervene, Lucy just goes off to her bed rather than compete with the puppy. I try and give Lucy lots of love and reassurance, but unless the puppy is sequestered, she is so present.

Second Snowfall

It's beautiful and quiet. I have a fire going in the stove and Christmas music playing. Perhaps a tray of cookies in the oven would be appropriate. Lucy, like all dogs, loves the snow. And like a small child with a runny nose, she has her perpetual stringers, now a bit frozen on her face. I have a stack of adult handkerchiefs that I keep by her leash for walks. In house, it's kleenex.

Here are two shots of her enjoying the weather. One is quite blurry, but I still like it. She's looking for a "R-A-T." In the other, she's licking off the offending drips.

Cold!

It is so cold here in the NW! The weathermen say we are in the longest cold snap we've had in nearly two decades. Day time temps are never above 30. Nights are in the teens. Lucy is in heaven. Snow on the ground and temps that make her ears crisp, her nose ice cold and her heart spunky. Everything is a treat for her when it's cold. And her nose is better. Is it the drugs or the temp?

After my sister-in-law suggested it, I bought a baby nose syringe to try when Lucy's nose is filled. As she put it, babies can't blow their nose either, so I thought I'd give it a try. The first one I bought was an ear syringe for adults (as they were out of the baby equivalent) and she hated that, so it is now in the back of the bathroom cupboard. Today I purchased from another store a baby nose syringe with a detachable tip for easy cleaning. How wonderful!! I don't doubt that Lucy will be equally dismayed by the prospect, but it might help with all the goobers.

New Drugs, New Cocktail Ball

Lucy had access to her cocktail ball last night. It is the first time I've allowed her to play with it since it was taken away. Not only was it taken away, it was thrown away and replaced with a new one. I decided to pitch it as I was concerned there could be bacteria on it that was re-infecting her. I'll never know the answer to that one, although her nose wasn't terribly runny afterwards.

She is also on a new antibiotic: Clavamox. Her nose was getting more and more goopy—both nostrils—and she was obviously suffering from some bacteria. The vet decided we should "pulse" (their word) antibiotics, so we've stopped the Doxycyline for this new one. It was made a huge difference both in the amount of nose goo and, within a day, the color.

Edited to add (many hours later): as of this afternoon's walk, the color is as bad as ever!