Unbelievable.
For
three weeks, Coop hasn't been Coop. Went from Oprahness energy to Ritalin, like
that. No smiles, no tailwagging, no eating, no sniffing, turned down cheese.
For a day a half, he just laid around.
A
night earlier, Vander made a very slight 'No, I'm on his lap now' pump fake,
and I started worrying if it was from that, maybe feeling unsettled or
something. But they interacted fine the next day, only for the funk to start.
He
finally got off his couch, but wasn't Coop. Vet No. 1 checked him out two days
later, couldn't find anything. Heartworm, fecal tests, fine. Heart and lungs,
fine. Said wait a few days, try bloodwork.
Few
days later, Vet 2 did bloodwork, all normal. But still, lethargy in different
forms, and a face that said “When you gonna make me feel better?”, then a paw
issue emerged on occasion. Well, shit.
Had
a plan for a friend to dogsit for a day or two this weekend and see if it was
in fact something demeanor wise, and at least see if he'd eat. And I started
having THAT conversation in my head about a decision, because I wanted him to
be himself and be happy for the next several years, even if it crushed me for
good while that it was somewhere else.
Was
set up on Tuesday for a Thursday AM appt to x-ray his paws, and that day saw a
fluidy baggy thing in his neck, and his upper chest felt different. Started
worrying more, because he's a lean dog and had fattyness to his neck that
wasn't there.
Dropped
him off Thursday morning, and the call at 3:33 p.m. brought the motherfucker of
all fuckers:
Fuckin
cancer.
The
loving and friendly and lemme-lick-ya and let's play and let's snuggle
puppydawg who moved in on his own in 2015 has motherfuckin cancer, that worked
quickly.
Days, not weeks.
It
was so exhausting to see him not be himself, to be sluggish and to not eat and
hardly go outside, but I just didn't even think of something that harsh.
Went
to the vet, saw the chest x-rays, talked some more, but I already knew, because
I always said when any such time came, I wasn't going to extend things just for
me, couldn't let something go longer just for me, because if a pooch can’t be
himself ...
And
with this - fluid around the lungs, not eating, etc., - I couldn't handle
forcing an issue for a short period of time to be miserable, but moreso to
delay and then him having some sort of distressful episode, and that scenario.
That
was not going to be his final feeling or vision. He would quietly and calmly
and comfortably move on to his next life.
Might
be Saturday morning, but now it might could be Friday afternoon.
Hydrating
and some ugly crying to continue/follow. He so much deserves better.
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