My boy, Bubba, became seriously ill within the span of 6 hours - his only symptom was panting and as it was hot, I figured he was actually a bit hot.  By the third hour, and his panting not abating but wearing him out, I started to try to get him to drink and had him at the emergency vet just a few hours later.  By that time, he could barely move and I looked in my back seat and thought he was gone.

He spent 4 days at the vet, so weak he was marked critical and never once saw the inside of a cage.  He lay near an exam table, a fan on him to try and keep him cool.  The first day he was in enough pain he would not look at me, or want to do anything but try to get comfortable.  He had an extreme amount of gas in his tummy and they took 24 hours before sticking a hose down there and relieving the pressure.  He still had major complications, including a protein issue and his heart had shrunk and he now had an arrhythmia.  Little by little he started to eat from my hand and drink.  I got him to go outside to the bathroom using a sling and still he didn't even blink at a cat or another dog passing by.  Once the air was gone, the vet got a better look at his internals and said she did not like what she saw and it appeared to be a cancerous mass that had abscessed.  He had bled out from the infection and it weakened him and he was responding to the antibiotics and the blood was reabsorbing in to his body and he was feeling better.  His body had also shut down his bowels...I think she called it an "illius", where they keep eating for a day or so but nothing is going through so he got very sick and threw it all up.

I had pretty much convinced myself that come Sunday, I'd put him down at the vet and packed our blanket so we could lay together in one of the rooms for a while and some familiar items.  When I got to the front counter and explained why I was here, the receptionist asked me why I was putting him down?  Okay, I was not in the mood to have someone who didn't even know my animal's history or myself question me.  So I said because he was pretty ill and she said, "just wait".

When the exam room door opened he was walking on his own and wagging his hind end and happy to see me.  I asked him if he wanted to go home and see Katie and he started towards me.  That was enough for me.  My prayer had been just to be able to get him home and honor him in the way his love had honored me by having him in his home and being able to be with him the whole way through the trip.  I asked the vet what this really meant - could we do medicine management and keep him around another year.  No.  Okay, how about another 3 months.  No.

She explained that clinically today he was tremendously better, but the plain fact was he had something ugly going on inside and it wasn't going to go away and he'd probably relapse within a month or so.  She said if it were her dog, she'd bring him home.  And I did.  He continued to recover, not all the way to 100%, but to a great degree and we gave him antacids, antibiotics, and rice and boiled chicken diet. 

His hair never started to regrow where they had shaved his front leg and he did not regain the luster to his coat and I knew, in my heart, that I was lucky for each and every minute with him, however long that may be.  He lasted about 6 weeks and the day he relapsed it was obvious.  I called a mobile vet tech and he said he was unavailable til the next day.  I knew that although Bubba was not as severe as before, it was heading that way and by the following morning he'd be too weak to move.  With fortune on my side, the vet called back and said he could come that afternoon.  It took me by surprise and I almost said no, wait until tomorrow, but realized how selfish that way.....there'd be no more miraculous come backs and he deserved more from me than that.

I had given him a pain pill already and the vet is very intuitive and stays out of the picture as much as possible - Bubba still gave him a second look as sick as he was.  I had the highest honor to be able to tell my baby it was time to go to sleep and kiss his beautiful face the whole way, including til the very end when his heart no longer beat and his soul was departing. This was October 15, 2004 and Bubba was 9 years old.

So I made a deal with Kate that she would go quietly in her sleep and spare me having to go through that again.  We worked hard to get her weight down so her hips wouldn't be a big problem and now and then she'd limp, but she was a big girl and always chasing cats so we figured she was stiff or so.  If I knew then what I know now, I would have taken her in for an xray then and kept up preventative checkups.

Around the first part of September she started limping on her back leg.  In two days she didn't get any better and was actually now not even walking on it.  My partner was going to take her in to the vet for me since I was at work, but I'd never really let anyone do that before and thought that if the exam got a bit painful or whatever, I'd rather be there.  In a time of so much sadness, there is always opportunity to see the fortunate side of events.  I was fortunate that I was there.  He examined her leg, she did not flinch away or cry out, and then they took her for xrays.  The vet technician then asked me if it would be okay to wait for a few minutes as they wanted to be able to show me her xrays and the box was in the other room.  I was starting to think, oh no, I've been this ride before.  The vet showed me xrays of both her knees and it was very obvious there was a problem.  I, of course, burst out in tears and had a million questions.  She had arthritis in the good leg as well, and a back leg for such a big dog, specially an 11-year old did not make her a goood candidate for amputation.  The vet said more than likely even if that were to happen, based on the condition of the leg the cancer had spread - apparently osteosarcoma is highly aggressive so the chances of recovery were not high.  I asked about additional xrays and you gotta love a vet who says he'll do anything you want, but the reality is that his years of experience tell him that she didn't have long to live and that HER comfort was the main factor here.  As I do not have children, at this point, I was ready for a mental hospital.  This was September 12th, 2005.  It was my partner's son's birthday, so we were all to go to dinner.  I asked him to please not say anything to anyone for several days til I could sort it out and figure out what to do about his 8 year old being able to see her, or not see her, or even how to tell her. 

I also still went online, called several cancer centers including the University of California Davis' program and the outcome all seemed the same.  I could put her through things that would make her sick, possibly hurt her, and the outcome would not change.  There were "miraculous cures" on the web and all kinds of products for sale, but it didn't appear that any of them were for bone cancer.

We decided we'd pain manage her until she could no longer do her regular routine.  She was getting around pretty good on 3 legs and she still greeted me each day, went around obstacles to get upstairs so we wouldn't make her go back downstairs, and in the morning, went down the stairs, sometimes assisted (not her choice), and sometimes not. 

I truly believe in a higher power and more so now than ever before.  #1 example was my decision to go to the vet visit.

#2 was that I didn't feel well on Monday, Oct 10, and didn't go in to work.  I also wasn't feeling to great on the 11th and had decided I'd go in in the afternoon as maybe I'd feel better and I had a lot of work.  As I was passing Katie in the hall, she was trying to lay down on the cool tile.  She didn't look good all of a sudden and she wouldn't look at me, didn't want me to rub her (her favorite thing, I do massage and that dog would lay there for days if I'd keep rubbing her), and she wouldn't eat anything, including bologna, and ham.  I had thought she was in a bit more pain than normal so I tried to give her another pain pill.  That morning we had had to bring her down on a comforter carrying her, not a good sign so I should have realized.

I gave her a little water and she bolted for the back door to be sick.  Unfortunately, because she couldn't balance herself, she couldn't get up what she needed to and short of being completely graphic on how terrible it was to witness her struggle, I tried to help support her and make sure she wasn't choking and knew that this was bad.  She finally collapsed outside on the ground in exhaustion.  I went in the house and called the mobile vet and left a message.  I went back outside and tried to wash her mouth out and keep the flies (they were terrible that day) off her.  I finally used the stern voice to get her in the house and when she was sick I covered it and told her she was a good girl, and she wasn't going back outside.  I could have cared less if she messed up the whole house at that point. 

She lay down trying to get comfortable and I noticed her abdomen looked hugely distended and there was a large mass sticking out her bad left side.  #3 in my fortunate category and my faith that we are cared for is that when the vet called back and I explained how she was, he said he could squeeze me in but he had to come right then.  And he was there w/in a 1/2 hr.  In the meantime, this tough chick of a Rottie, actually seemed to panic that she was in pain and I promised her that I would take that way soon.  And I did.  And I again had the extreme honor of being able to be with her not only at her best, but at her very worst and have her know the love I have for her.

In both instances I helped to carry my friends to the mobile surgery vehicle - it's surreal and right now I still cannot believe that the house really is the empty and really is this lonely.  Bubba was my shadow, abandoned, we took him in and he was my canine soul mate from the first day.  His love and protectiveness for me knew no bounds and I thought I'd never mend my heart, but at least I also had my other stellar animal Katie to tend to.  Now, my last one is gone - she was bigger than life, and the hallways, and the doorways, and she filled a room with her presence, with her greeting, with her wonderful personality and loving nature.  If we felt a little draft when Bubba departed, now I feel the force of a hurricane at the emptiness around me.

On the same day I put Kate down, a friend I met at the vet when Bubba was ill sent me an e-mail.  She had put her Shadow down that same day.  She also lost both her Rottweilers to cancer.  I swear we feed them over processed crap and they are not meant to handle it and it sets off their cancer clock. 

I consider myself extremely fortunate.  I didn't at first actually because I was hoping I'd get the luck of the draw on age and have them in to their 12's, 13's, or 14's.  I can tell you that my "kids" had very good lives - and they didn't consider themselves anything but furry people.  I consider each and every day we were together the most blessed.  I tell myself that they are at peace and waiting for me....and sometimes it helps and sometimes, it doesn't.  The pain is just too great right now to keep a stiff upper lip and just move on.

I get Katie's ashes this week.  She will sit next to Bubba (they also were not related and one was an American and one was a German, completely different from each other) on the shelf and for me, they will still be here and together.

I get by with gathering photos and starting to put together a scrap book.  I started journaling the day after I found out Katie was sick and it has helped more than I can say.  I cry when I feel like it and I do things that make ME feel better.  I explained to my boss that it would be like him losing his son or daughter when they were 9 or 11, and that yes, they are that important to me that I am very affected by this.

I don't think it's fair, not one bit.  And to think that the cancer in Katelyn's stomach grew that fast and other places as well I am sure - basically eating her up and she sucked it up and never cried, whimpered or complained.  The night before that day, she made it up on her own, but she rested at each landing for a bit.  She let me rub her down for a long time and sometimes, lightly massaging the cancerous leg would help put her to sleep.  She was not as restless as normal and she had a decent sleep.  Something I haven't for weeks now, but I'm sure I will once the "nightmare" feeling finally departs.  It started when we found out, and hasn't quite worn off yet, but I know it will. 

What I pray for now is that they remember to come visit me in my dreams and that they know that the love I have for them was just as unconditional as theirs, and it's eternal.

I wish all those who have lost their animals in any way, peacefully in their sleep, through the pain and decision making of serious illness, through whatever means, that you try to see the fortunate side of the situation.  That in the depths of despair there were still moments of connection and love that let you be there when you were most needed.  That every second spent with those you love, is a second more than you had.  That you know you did the best you could and for your "kids", that was always more than enough for them.  Just to be near you was enough.  I also suggest that those that may not have thought of the idea, and if you throw it away when you are done, that you keep a journal, even after they are gone.  Get it out, write it down and let it leave your head for a little while.  Tell them how you feel, tell yourself how you feel.  It WILL help.  You will remember things worth noting.  I have very few regrets, but one is that I didn't have a professional picture with them taken.  Or even more of just us and have them videotaped.

Have heart those of you who are going through this.  There are many of us out here who empathize and share your pain.  You are not alone in your anger, or sadness, or heartbreak, or outright over the edge!  Remember the love and believe they'll be waiting.....because they will, anything that loyal in life will hold on to that wherever they are.  And thank goodness for that.

I was so lucky to have them in my life and I could write a book on what we went through together.  But tonight, I am content they are at peace and know how much I miss them and long to have them here again.

I celebrate October as special.  I lost them just shy of one year of each other and will tell you that it was enough as well to seek counseling to help me through it and regain some perspective by being able to tell another person every terrible detail, just to get it out. 

Night sweet children, you are always in my head and in my heart.  The Mommy