We received a call on Wednesday to let us know that Indigo's remains were available for pick up at her vet's office. Her ashes still remain at the vet today and most likely will remain at her vet for a while longer. Although the events of the past week I think are a harsh reminder of just how deeply her absence is felt.
Indy and Paulie lounged around the house all day on Saturday. Never once did they ask to be fed or entertained. They laid in their various beds and blankets, lazing away the entire day. We were both surprised and shocked by their despondent behavior. Not so the next day though - a big change is in the works inside the house pack.
On Sunday evening, we were watching television and the dogs were playing around as usual. They seemed to be back to their normal selves - demanding in sharp, piercing barks to be played with and fed. Indy, as part of his anxious nature, likes to lay on his various beds and put as much of the corner of the bed in his mouth and suck on it like a pacifier. (Strange & gross, I know, but he's just generally very weird.) Paulie wanted Indy to play with him so he walked over to Indy, playfully barking and hopping around. The atmosphere changed as soon as Paulie was right next to Indy. Indy snapped at Paulie and grabbed a mouthful of fur. Paulie, probably shocked that Indy was so irrational, snapped back at Indy's neck And the war was on!!
I jumped up to grab Indy while hubby grabbed Paulie. In the ensuing chaos, Paulie latched onto hubby's arm. At that point, it was just me trying to separate them. Finally I pried them apart. Hubby was left with a menacing looking wound on his arm. It took about 15 minutes to calm them both down. It seemed my hubby was the only one with injuries to speak of. They've done this before - twice in the two years they've lived together. So this was not an extremely shocking event. Usually, Indy has a mouthful of Paulie's fur and Paulie has some flesh wound buried deep in his fur and then they forget about it quickly after.
Fast forward to three days later - they are at it again. This time they are fighting over the possession of a squeaky toy...of which there are two in front of them. After we pry them apart this time, Indy has a hole in his lip and a mouthful of Paulie's fur. We've been diligent about keeping them apart when possible and removing those items that instigate the fights but we're ready for the battle to be over. After twice in one week, it's time for one of them to submit and roll over.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Our Sweet Girl
Indigo was put to sleep tonight. Today was a bad day for her and believe it or not, that helped us. Last night, she was happy as a clam when our friends came over to bid her farewell. Again with the hopping and circling!! The thought of what we had planned for tonight overwhelmed us with guilt. Today though, she was moving slower and had trouble breathing. She didn't even want to eat! She finally relented and ate the pot roast dinner I made for her. (Hey, don't judge me. We loved her THAT much!)
The entire staff at Indigo's primary vet loved her dearly. Indigo was always happy to go there too because she was showered with so much love and attention. They were so sad to see her in her current state. When she saw her, Dr. Robin assured us we were doing the right thing. Knowing how much she loved Indigo, that made us feel better too.
Dr. Robin asked that we bring the two wieners to the appointment. She said that it would help them process their loss. (I saw that. Yes, I saw you raise your eyebrow when I said that. But it's okay - because I did the same thing when I heard it.) The idea was that they knew where she was the last time they saw her, so they wouldn't keep searching the house for her. Paulie was very attached to Indigo. Indy, whether he knows it or not, owed Indigo a debt of gratitude for keeping him company during the years when his separation anxiety was unbearable for him. So we packed them up too.
When we arrived, Dr. Robin explained what would happen and what to expect. They put in an IV and then set her on the couch between us in a soft-lit, calming room that seemed like a living room in someone's grandparents' house. There were no surprises...except at how quickly the second drug worked. She was given a sedative first to calm her and that seemed to do absolutely nothing. Then we gave the go ahead to give her the second drug - the "measured" overdose. She pushed the drug into her IV. Seconds later, Indigo rolled onto her side and was gone. Dr. Robin checked with her stethoscope and confirmed what we saw happen right in front of us.
Paulie sat on the back of the couch above her. He jumped down next to her, poked her with his nose, licked her a few times and then jumped down and was ready to leave. Indy was curious, but just sniffed and then joined Paulie at the door. But nothing can describe seeing the love of your life breakdown when confronted with the absolute loss of his best and closest friend of 11 years.
The entire staff at Indigo's primary vet loved her dearly. Indigo was always happy to go there too because she was showered with so much love and attention. They were so sad to see her in her current state. When she saw her, Dr. Robin assured us we were doing the right thing. Knowing how much she loved Indigo, that made us feel better too.
Dr. Robin asked that we bring the two wieners to the appointment. She said that it would help them process their loss. (I saw that. Yes, I saw you raise your eyebrow when I said that. But it's okay - because I did the same thing when I heard it.) The idea was that they knew where she was the last time they saw her, so they wouldn't keep searching the house for her. Paulie was very attached to Indigo. Indy, whether he knows it or not, owed Indigo a debt of gratitude for keeping him company during the years when his separation anxiety was unbearable for him. So we packed them up too.
When we arrived, Dr. Robin explained what would happen and what to expect. They put in an IV and then set her on the couch between us in a soft-lit, calming room that seemed like a living room in someone's grandparents' house. There were no surprises...except at how quickly the second drug worked. She was given a sedative first to calm her and that seemed to do absolutely nothing. Then we gave the go ahead to give her the second drug - the "measured" overdose. She pushed the drug into her IV. Seconds later, Indigo rolled onto her side and was gone. Dr. Robin checked with her stethoscope and confirmed what we saw happen right in front of us.
Paulie sat on the back of the couch above her. He jumped down next to her, poked her with his nose, licked her a few times and then jumped down and was ready to leave. Indy was curious, but just sniffed and then joined Paulie at the door. But nothing can describe seeing the love of your life breakdown when confronted with the absolute loss of his best and closest friend of 11 years.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Three Feet in the Grave
Indigo went into atrial fibrillation recently - her heart pounds relentlessly out of rhythm. She pants incessantly so it used to be hard to feel her heart rate...but now, you can SEE it. I found myself zoning out in a daydream/nightmare about what creature would soon be busting itself through her side like something out of Alien - it was THAT dramatic. We put her on another medication (yes, that's 6 now) to reduce her heart rate. It won't return her to sinus rhythm, but she won't feel like she's just run two marathons in a row at a full on sprint either. We're are now at the point that you never want to be when caring for a sick patient...."keeping them comfortable".
She had her appointment with the cardiologist yesterday and that's when they told hubby about this new problem. I was at work in a meeting so I had to miss the appointment. But I called after my meeting and he was still there. We had two options: 1) more medication or 2) more medication plus putting her under and shocking her heart back into rhythm. This shock treatment is temporary they said, it would most likely happen again. Of course the third, unspeakable option has always been lurking in the background, waiting to attack - euthanasia.
It's hard to explain to those that don't know her Indigo's general disposition. So for those of you that have come to know Marley of Marley and Me (book or movie) - that's our dog, only she's black. She is impervious to pain...oblivious to the impending doom. I left work early to meet hubby at home to discuss our options. On that short drive, I prepared my speech about how we need to put her down because she's not going to ask us to. (I should write down this speech, because I will need him to read it to me someday when the wieners have three short, stubby feet in the grave.)
When I walked in the door I took a deep breath, prepared for the worst. But there she was just spinning around acting like a puppy, absolutely excited to see me for no reason whatsoever. She obviously didn't see my true intentions as I came in the door - carrying a large scythe wearing a black cloak with a hood. I decided against the speech. Really, how could I sit there and lobby for putting her out of her misery as she jumps and spins around like a two year old?
It's going to have to happen in the next couple of days. I don't want her to die alone at home while we're at work from a heart attack, I know that much. But I'm going to feel terrible taking this oblivious, happy dog to the vet only to be put down. *sigh*
She had her appointment with the cardiologist yesterday and that's when they told hubby about this new problem. I was at work in a meeting so I had to miss the appointment. But I called after my meeting and he was still there. We had two options: 1) more medication or 2) more medication plus putting her under and shocking her heart back into rhythm. This shock treatment is temporary they said, it would most likely happen again. Of course the third, unspeakable option has always been lurking in the background, waiting to attack - euthanasia.
It's hard to explain to those that don't know her Indigo's general disposition. So for those of you that have come to know Marley of Marley and Me (book or movie) - that's our dog, only she's black. She is impervious to pain...oblivious to the impending doom. I left work early to meet hubby at home to discuss our options. On that short drive, I prepared my speech about how we need to put her down because she's not going to ask us to. (I should write down this speech, because I will need him to read it to me someday when the wieners have three short, stubby feet in the grave.)
When I walked in the door I took a deep breath, prepared for the worst. But there she was just spinning around acting like a puppy, absolutely excited to see me for no reason whatsoever. She obviously didn't see my true intentions as I came in the door - carrying a large scythe wearing a black cloak with a hood. I decided against the speech. Really, how could I sit there and lobby for putting her out of her misery as she jumps and spins around like a two year old?
It's going to have to happen in the next couple of days. I don't want her to die alone at home while we're at work from a heart attack, I know that much. But I'm going to feel terrible taking this oblivious, happy dog to the vet only to be put down. *sigh*
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