My intuition must be working overtime because last week Lucky had a rough go of things – namely, with his ability to live. He’s still alive, but not doing so hot. Sunday night, he peed all over the kitchen floor, despite me having just let him out to pee a half hour earlier. Now, it’s not like he’s never had an accident before, but it’s not all that commonplace and it was a foretelling of things to come. After the peeing incident, I took him on a walk. He dragged ass behind me the entire way and it was only about a 20-minute walk. I’ve taken him on hour-long walks that didn’t bother him, so for him to walk four feet behind me for 20 minutes was unusual. After his walk, he wouldn’t eat dinner. Again, it’s not like he’s never missed a meal, but all of these things combined was suspicious. He could barely walk and practically refused to stand. The next morning, his condition had only worsened. Again, he could hardly walk and wanted no part in the dog biscuits I presented him. He was also breathing oddly – real slow and deep one minute, then really shallow and fast the next. I had to go to work, but I didn’t want to leave him. I truly believed that I was going to come home to a dead dog. Needless to say, I was bawling as I patted his head, professing my love for him. Thankfully, my mom, who lives down the street, was home that day, so I asked her to check on him while I was at work. She did, but felt the same way – that Lucky would be “lucky” to make it through the night. She couldn’t get him to move from his position on the ground. I asked my mom if she thought I should make an appointment to put him down for the next day, just in case his condition worsened further. She rightly told me that there really wasn’t a clear cut answer to that question. So, afraid that he would be on his “death bed” the next day, I made an appointment for late in the afternoon the next day. Tears slid down my face as I drove home from work that day, as I realized that I would probably never walk him down that street again, as I had done almost daily. When I walked through the front door, my husband and mother were standing in the living room, as they watched Lucky make his triumphant, if not pathetic, attempt at walking for the first time that day. I was happy, but cautious as he lost his balance, leaning into the entertainment center.
By Wednesday, Lucky was back to normal, to a certain extent. I could only walk him for about fifteen minutes, and at a much slower pace than before. He still refuses to eat any kind of dog food, eating only deli turkey and some biscuits. I will spare you the details, but his “waste” is not normal for any living being. Then, he pooped on our bedroom floor one night and peed on the floor in the hallway the very next morning. Ugh!
Tonight, he seems to be on the downward slope again, as he’s breathing really funny and only getting up with boisterous coaxing from me and my husband. I took him on a very slow, fifteen-minute walk and he was, once again, dragging behind me.
I know the inevitable is coming, but I’m just not sure how long it will take to get here and in what form it will come. Being the hyper dog that he is, I always imagined Lucky would go with a heart attack while chasing after a ball. So, this slow, dragged out procession is torture. I know I just need to put it out of my head. It will come when it comes and however it wants to.