My nerves are fried. How can I tell? I had just uploaded the picture to this post and had one sentence entered. My fingers hit something on the laptop keyboard and published what I had. All I could say in different tones and volume was 'goddammit' for at least a minute until I was able to save this post as a draft to take it offline again. Big Sigh...
You saw my post the other day on Cabal. It was that morning that I had to make a very difficult decision to sign consent for him to be put down. I miss Cabal incredibly, but his quality of life and age had to be considered in the decision made.
Cabal had been behaving oddly for about a week. He was skittish about going up a step or on a curb. I thought that at this age the arthritis was acting up. A couple days before he was reticent about eating his food. If you know my boy, you know he loves his food. It took a little bit of encouragement from me for him to start and finish his food. I didn't think there was anything really wrong with him because he still wanted to play and he ate his favorite treats. He had three kinds for different occasions of the day. Yes, he was spoiled, but he was my baby afterall - my beautiful good boy.
Right before I left for work I called out to him and he wouldn't come. He was on all fours laying down as if he was on strike. I grabbed his leash and called to him again and he came, walked in circles and collapsed. I dialed Tawny to come right away to help me take him to the vet or to the emergency teaching vet we've taken him before. Before long, we carried him in a purple table cloth, each of us holding a corner and gently laying him in my car. On the way I had called the facility to let them know we were coming and that we needed help to get him out of the car. In the midst of everything, I was communicating to my cousin Angie in Los Angeles.
When we arrived, I called the facility again to have the doctor come outside to take him. As I rounded my car to unlock the hatchback, I saw a lady with a four-month old Sheltie the exact coloring of my baby and what he looked like at the same age walking outside. It seemed cruel for me to see.
Once inside I filled out paperwork and sat next to Tawny. The lady brought her doggie in and said she knew how difficult it was blahblahblah as she held her healthy puppy. I wanted to slap her and tell her to shut the hell up. I don't like strangers' words when I am in a crisis. I need familiar people to comfort me.
A nurse took us into a room where the doctor met us and gave us the bad news that there was bleeding in Cabal's stomach presumably for a tumor in liver, spleen, etc. A vial containing the bleeding was held up as evidence. He was anemic which caused him to collapse from weakness. She tried to give me hope and options, but I knew I could not put him through testing, overnight stays in strange places, a risky operation at his age and recovery. In the middle of her delivering the news, I was already dialing my cousin Gary's number, Cabal's original owner until a little over five years ago when I offered a home for him to live when he could no longer have him. More calls with Angie, then with my aunt who picked up Gary and took him to the facility.
It was almost an hour and a half by the time they got there. While we waited, I asked to have time with Cabal. They brought him in the room and I held him, kissed him and cried on him. Tawny was there with me crying and stroking his fur. He was on his side, resigned and weak. He tried to get up a couple of times, but we gently pushed him back down. I thanked him and told him over and over how much I loved him. My love was a litany in his ear.
I felt a betrayal when he perked up when my aunt came in. Little tease. He always had a special relationship with her. Gary was upset and spent time talking to him, too. About 10 minutes later, Cabal had calmed back down again. I knew it was time. A waving motion of my hand alerted Tawny to call and let them know we were all ready. I was hysterical when I signed the consent forms. Two spaces for a signature that was difficult to produce. My cousin Gary was stern in reminding me what was best so I could finish it.
The doctor came in soon after and asked who had been through one of these before and Gary raised his hand. [I never wanted to be there when it happened, but Gary said that I shouldn't upset Cabal by leaving.] She began to explain to me how the mechanics of euthanizing worked when I stopped her impatiently with a dismissal of how I didn't need the explanation, but to just do it quickly. I should have asked how long it took to stop his heart. I didn't know it was immediately. My hands were still holding his beautiful face, his eyes almost closed but looking somewhere ahead when I asked if he was gone and they said yes. I was so shocked I almost dropped his head. Holy hell. It was then I asked them to take him away and I couldn't see him that way. My cousin Gary said in a cold voice that I needed to leave so they could take him away. I got up from the floor and was led outside by Tawny in the beautiful spring air and blue skies while my heart was breaking a thousand pieces.
Grief or no grief, the facility was also a business. I was reminded when they called my name to settle up the cost of everything. I handed my credit card to the desk clerk who tried to comfort me. I was spent and tired. My aunt and cousin said their goodbyes to me and Tawny. I thanked my cousin for being there and for letting me keep Cabal the last years of his life.
Hidden behind my sunglasses were eyes devoid of any carefully applied make-up, puffy lids were trying to shield the cold reality of my loss. I kept them on the rest of the day. I drove Tawny and me to a low key restaurant where we ate lunch and drank lots of soda for the caffeine, anything to give energy. An hour later, we came back to my apartment. I handed her two trashbags to sanitize it of Cabal's belongings which she did swiftly. I didn't want them inside waiting for an owner who would never return home.
Tawny was dropped off just the other side of my apartment complex before I drove myself to work. My boss was aghast when I called him to tell him I was on my way and he let me know that my presentation the next day could be post-poned. I said no. By God, if my Pretty Boy Dog could try to get up even as they were injecting the drug to take his life and relieve him of the pain he never complained of, I could go back to work and prepare my presentation. It was difficult and I didn't explain the sunglasses to people who did not know.
Coming home later that night to a quiet home was unnerving. I stalled getting home by buying a small cash register for the art center and taking it downtown to Tawny. This woman was a rock that day. I am immeasurably thankful for her support and love as one of the best friends anyone could ever have.
Waking up on Wednesday was tricky, too. I was weepy, but soldiered on for my presentation to our national department. My intention was to impress and set the tone for future presentations by the other eight waiting to give theirs in the coming weeks. That's why I volunteered to be first. When you volunteer, you'd better show up. I did it for my dog. After the presentation, my energy wore off as the day wore off.
Today I worked from home. I couldn't stop weeping or get myself up out of bed. The depression had settled in. This post was more for me to get things out. As gregarious and open as I can be, I am more private when it comes to personal pain...Let me tell you that I am one of the luckiest people in the world -- I have received kind words from so many of people. My dog was a rock star! I thank you all for your support; it humbles me.
Below is a pic of the front and inside of a card signed by Bridget (& her son) and my boss. Isn't it beautiful? It fits Cabal. I know he's in a better place without pain enjoying playtime with other doggies. Even in his last hour, he didn't show his age. He still had that puppy-like expression, much like the new puppy we saw the other day.
Love,
Sarah xxoo
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