Because his appetite is so spotty, I'm giving him any kind of cooked meat he will eat (pills hidden in it) and that seems to trigger a bit more interest in his kibble. Last night it was leftover pork roast. This morning it was leftover grilled chicken. The vet is estimating several months, but my gut says I don't have that long. If the bleeds get worse or the hemangiosarcoma progresses more quickly, it won't be long at all. I had to euthanize Kasha when the time was right, and I know I'll do the same for Taz if he needs help. For the time being, he gets all the meat, attention and bed space that he wants.

June 16, 2007:  Taz went down hill very quickly after his diagnosis on April 12, 2007, of hemangiosarcoma.  He had many more bouts of diarrhea and I ended up penning him in the kitchen (on linoleum) when I wasn’t home or when I went to bed.  It became very clearly in these last 3 weeks that he was becoming more limited in activity and just trudging through his days.  I made the decision a couple of weeks ago to have him put to sleep yesterday (June 15, 2007), exactly 2 months shy of 2 years from his “big sister’s” death on August 15, 2005.  With Kasha, the decision was so easy to make, but with Taz, not so much.  Still, I knew he was just not enjoying life anymore, and the most basic of activities, from eating to elimination, were a struggle. He was very weak, didn’t want to go up or down the three steps to get outside or back in, and often just plunked right down on the ground instead of getting out there and pottying.

I took him to the vet yesterday – Becky James at Aspentree Vet Clinic – who has cared for both my dogs for several years. She is absolutely the kindest, gentlest of people and was right there with me, giving Taz his last hugs, kisses and belly scratches.  After examining him, she told me that his spleen had enlarged significantly since her April exam and that the splenic tumor was at least 3 times the size it had been and completely palpable on his spleen.

Though I still had a little voice wondering if I was making the right decision, she and I agreed it was time to help him pass. The future potential was for a major hemorrhage to occur at a time when I was not around and he would end up having a painful, possibly extended, and lonely passing, and that it could be weeks more of further degradation of his condition.  As Becky hovered (with that damned needle of pink fluid), I only thought about it another moment and nodded.  Taz had already been sedated at that point, so it was just a matter of feeling his chest stop moving. Just as with Kasha, I laid on the floor beside him, spooning around his back with my face buried in his neck.  Once he was gone, I grabbed another tissue and wiped my tears from his fur.  His ashes will join Kasha’s in an urn I bought for the both of them.

 don’t know if I’ll get another dog any time soon. Kasha and Taz were my first, and they may have been my last.  I’m donating the leftover dog food I have to a no-kill shelter or the local Humane Society.

Rachelle Whitley
Durango, CO