Our sweet boy -- can't quite believe it.
Eight day ago when he went outside to the bathroom he was attacked in our yard by some dogs. After a frantic trip to the vet, lots of blood loss, shock, surgery, staples, stitches and drains we truly thought he was going to make it. This weekend he stopped eating and just wanted to sleep. Back to the vet where they said the large area with the drain was infected, but felt like flushing the area and continuing antibiotics would take care of it and we could take him back home mid-week.
My husband stopped by the vet this morning and was upset, saying that he seemed worse. I talked to the vet but they were very encouraging, just saying that it would take some time for him to feel significantly better but they didn't feel that he was in any real danger.
I took my son to a dental appointment and went by to check on our dog. He looked absolutely horrible. He was standing up, and wagged his "nub" to see us, but seemed in a fog. His two small areas of infections were now three, with one just this huge mass of drainage. They had just done the flushing again, so I figured he was just tired and sore from that. I rubbed and talked to him for about ten minutes. He gradually relaxed and slowly lay down. My first clue was that he didn't whimper in the slightest when he lay down -- with all the bite wounds he has been sore and lets you know it when he stands up or lays down. He seemed okay, though and his eyelids seemed to get heavy, like he was going to sleep. Then I noticed his breathing seemed a little strained, so I asked my son to get the vet to step back in. As he came in my dog's breathing relaxed. At the same time both the vet and I realized that he had stopped breathing.
The vet grabbed him and took him to an exam room. They gave him oxygen and a shot to try to get his heart going. No response.
We all truly believed that he was going to be okay, that the infection was just a little setback in his recovery. We are in shock. My son, smart one he is, said "Mom, we were meant to be there when it happened." And he is right, as it was an hour before I would normally have been off work and able to get to the vet.
His passing seemed peaceful enough and I am sooooooo grateful that I was given the chance to be with him, and was loving on him when he died. But now I am going crazy thinking that if I had done something different -- like staying right beside him the day he was attacked, instead of stepping back inside the house (because it was cold that morning) while the dogs found the perfect spot to do their business, for starters.
Or if we had taken him to the doggie ER on Sunday when he started losing his appetite, instead of waiting for his vet on Monday morning. Or . . . . .
This is so hard. He was the cuddly, loving lap dog who just loved us unconditionally. We miss him so much, and I cringe at the thought of going ot work tomorrow, where I willl be asked about him dozens of times and I think I will cry each time.
Eight day ago when he went outside to the bathroom he was attacked in our yard by some dogs. After a frantic trip to the vet, lots of blood loss, shock, surgery, staples, stitches and drains we truly thought he was going to make it. This weekend he stopped eating and just wanted to sleep. Back to the vet where they said the large area with the drain was infected, but felt like flushing the area and continuing antibiotics would take care of it and we could take him back home mid-week.
My husband stopped by the vet this morning and was upset, saying that he seemed worse. I talked to the vet but they were very encouraging, just saying that it would take some time for him to feel significantly better but they didn't feel that he was in any real danger.
I took my son to a dental appointment and went by to check on our dog. He looked absolutely horrible. He was standing up, and wagged his "nub" to see us, but seemed in a fog. His two small areas of infections were now three, with one just this huge mass of drainage. They had just done the flushing again, so I figured he was just tired and sore from that. I rubbed and talked to him for about ten minutes. He gradually relaxed and slowly lay down. My first clue was that he didn't whimper in the slightest when he lay down -- with all the bite wounds he has been sore and lets you know it when he stands up or lays down. He seemed okay, though and his eyelids seemed to get heavy, like he was going to sleep. Then I noticed his breathing seemed a little strained, so I asked my son to get the vet to step back in. As he came in my dog's breathing relaxed. At the same time both the vet and I realized that he had stopped breathing.
The vet grabbed him and took him to an exam room. They gave him oxygen and a shot to try to get his heart going. No response.
We all truly believed that he was going to be okay, that the infection was just a little setback in his recovery. We are in shock. My son, smart one he is, said "Mom, we were meant to be there when it happened." And he is right, as it was an hour before I would normally have been off work and able to get to the vet.
His passing seemed peaceful enough and I am sooooooo grateful that I was given the chance to be with him, and was loving on him when he died. But now I am going crazy thinking that if I had done something different -- like staying right beside him the day he was attacked, instead of stepping back inside the house (because it was cold that morning) while the dogs found the perfect spot to do their business, for starters.
Or if we had taken him to the doggie ER on Sunday when he started losing his appetite, instead of waiting for his vet on Monday morning. Or . . . . . This is so hard. He was the cuddly, loving lap dog who just loved us unconditionally. We miss him so much, and I cringe at the thought of going ot work tomorrow, where I willl be asked about him dozens of times and I think I will cry each time.
Rainbow Bridge...
