Taz, 13
years old, hasn't been
himself for several months,
evidenced by
steadily-decreasing energy
and enthusiasm, bouts of
vomiting and black, tarry
diarrhea, decreased appetite
and other little indications
that set off my alarms. Over
last summer he had chronic
dandruff, dull coat and
severe itching, and benign
lipomas throughout his body
started growing VERY large.
In December
(2006), after a few days of
vomiting and black diarrhea
(and two visits from the
carpet cleaner), I took him
to the vet for x-rays and
blood work. His red blood
count was somewhat low and
the vet sent him home with
steroids and sucralfate for
his tummy. The vet was not
concerned about his lipomas,
as they were all palpable
above the muscle layers. (I,
on the other hand, was
concerned because he had one
on his chest between his
legs that was HUGE!)
Two or three
weeks ago he stopped
greeting me as he usually
does (stuffed toy "baby" in
mouth, wiggling butt,
prancing and teasing away
the toy); instead he is
always sleeping when I get
home and doesn't wake up
until he hears the door
open. He had another 2 days
of vomiting and black
diarrhea the beginning of
April 2007 and I took him
back to the vet on April 12,
2007. After more x-rays and
another blood test, the
former showing a
walnut-sized tumor on his
spleen, the latter showing
another significant drop in
his blood counts, she
diagnosed him with
hemangiosarcoma,
non-regenerating anemia and
an undiagnosed intestinal
bleed (possibly the
hemangiosarcoma, possibly a
different cancer) and has
given him a few months to
live. She again sent him
home with prednisone and
sucralfate, and added Pet
Tabs vitamins. His body has
stopped producing new red
blood cells, and we're
hoping the steroids and
vitamins will help his
symptoms somewhat. The trip
to the vet wore him out, and
though he hadn't eaten
anything at all that day, he
made a bee-line for a few
bites of grass, then
promptly threw it up once
inside.
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.
I
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.