I had some publishing topics for today, but everything paled when we had to take our beloved beagle, Dax, to the vet yesterday. We thought it was an infection of some kind. It wasn't. His kidneys had failed from old age.
For our previous dogs, we had some warning. We had time to make the decision.
Our vet was apologetic when he walked into the exam room with the results of the blood work. There was really nothing he could do. Oh, sure, he could admit Dax to the doggie hospital. Put him on IVs and some drugs to try to flush out his system. At best, it would give him one more miserable month.
We couldn't do that to him. We did ask for a couple of hours to pick up our son from school. Give Genius Kid a chance to say his goodbyes. We had an hour and half at home to try to deal with the impending doom.
GK refused to go back to the vet's with us. He didn't want to cry in front of other people. DH broke down after the deed was done. I had to be the one to make some decisions about disposition, etc.
I didn't want to get up this morning. It's weird not hear the jingle of Dax's tags. The warning moan/growl when DH and I are talking in bed way past Dax's bedtime; his way of telling us to shut up and go to sleep. The whisper bark he does when he's chasing squirrels in his sleep.
It's weird not to have a four-footed furkid around. It's been twenty-one years since it's been this quiet at home. I don't like it, but I don't think my heart can handle losing another one.
Invested In Not Writing
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