We made the decision to have Emma put to sleep. She wasn’t eating much, and she was starting to get lost in the house, and very confused in general.
It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. A lot of people told me there would be a sense of relief and peace once the decision was made. I haven’t had that. I know it was the right thing to do. I know she wouldn’t have wanted to go on the way she was, I know Nick would never have agreed to it if it wasn’t the right thing, and I trust our vet enough to believe he wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been the right thing. I still didn’t get the sense of relief.
As far as last days go, I think Emma’s (April 16th) was really good. She seemed to feel pretty good that day. Nick and I took her together; I rode in the backseat and held her. I had managed to convince myself the vet was going to find something easily fixable was wrong with her, take care of it, and send us on our merry way. So I was actually halfway cheerful on the drive. I think it might have been a coping mechanism.
Nick and I both stayed with her the entire time. The whole process was very, very peaceful. She basically just drifted off to sleep with the people she loved most petting her and telling how good and sweet she was, and how very much she was loved.
A week later (April 22nd), Cookie went in for a biopsy of a mass in her mouth. She’d had trouble with her mouth the entire time we’d had her. Most of her teeth had been pulled when she was at the shelter, and there were periods of time when her mouth became really inflamed, but treating it with antibiotics and steroids had been working.
Then the usual treatments just didn’t seem to help. The vet put her on different medications, even antibiotic shots (so as not to hurt her mouth trying to give her a pill) that we gave her at home. Nothing seemed to help, and the inflamed area started to get bigger.
Our vet suggested a biopsy, so we scheduled it. I wasn’t truly expecting bad results, and I thought even it was bad, they would be able to remove it, (I’m really beginning to think denial may be my preferred coping mechanism), so I was surprised when the vet called and said we needed to come in and talk before she proceeded with the biopsy.
After a very long talk with the vet, and determining that there was just no good way of treating it, we made the decision to say goodbye to Cookie. Again, the process was very, very peaceful. We were both able to be with her, and pet her, and tell her how much she was loved right up to the very end.
Fortunately, we still have six other fur babies; our dog Duke, and the five cats, Howard, Milo, Frankie, Tara, and Joey. There’s still lots of petting and cuddling going on. It helps.
I promise my next post will be a much happier one, and I’m looking forward to catching up on all of your blogs.