Gina Moriarty
Warning: this post discusses grief, pet death, and its aftermath. For context, see this post.
It’s been five weeks since Amis passed, and it feels both so long ago and… so recent.
A lot has happened, which I’ll briefly go into here. Hopefully, me talking about the process might help someone else who’s unfortunately going through the same thing. That being said, this post is a bit everywhere (just like emotions, I guess).
Continue reading “Dealing with Pet Death”
Warning: This post contains discussion of canine illness, surgery, scans, euthanasia, blood, cancer, and pet death.
This is a long post, and not a pleasant one. But part of my grieving process begs me to write it all down. So, here it is.
Read more: Our Dog DiedEverything seemed fine. I put food down for our dog, Amis, before I left for work. He ate it, as normal, and off I went. Gareth took him on his lunchtime walk, and Amis was fine. If he was a little lethargic afterwards, well… that’s normal after an hour’s runaround, right?
I came home around 6:30pm that evening, and I noticed he seemed a little lethargic. I wasn’t concerned at this point, sometimes he’s like that, but his breathing seemed.. off. Almost wheezy. I was getting him ready for his evening walk, but I decided to have a look in his nose, in case there was anything in there to account for his unusual breathing. That’s when his left hind leg went out from under him.
I helped him up, and he immediately went to his bed in our living room – and refused to move. I tried to encourage him, but he just lay there. I was concerned by this point, but tucked him in with a blanket and left him to it. I fixed Gareth and I food, and we continued with our evening.
Amis’ evening meal is around 8pm, so I got it ready. When he didn’t come to eat, I took it to him, where he’d barely moved in his bed. I offered him his food, but he was uninterested. I called Gareth down from the study where he was working from home, and shared my concern. We agreed that if he didn’t eat tonight or his morning meal tomorrow, Gareth would take him to the vet.
About half an hour later, I went to the study to do some work on our podcasts. Gareth took his work laptop downstairs so that someone would be with the dog. During this time, Gareth decided to let Amis out into our garden. Amis managed to get up from his bed, stagger forward a few paces, at which point his back legs went out from under him. Gareth carried him outside and held him up so he could urinate. Nothing happened, so Gareth brought him back in and put him on the sofa for a cuddle.
I heard the words “Amis! No, no no no!” from upstairs, and came down to check what was happening. Amis had finally urinated.
Without context, hearing that Amis peed on Gareth and the sofa would be a nuisance-turned-funny-story. However, with everything else going on, this was a huge red flag.
I removed the cushion and Gareth’s shirt so we could wash it later. We then took Amis out into the garden again, where Gareth laid him on the grass, and Amis just… lay there. His eyes were open and he seemed alert, but he would not move. As a last ditch effort to get him to eat, I grabbed some pâté from the fridge and offered it to him, but he literally turned his nose up at it.
This was the cincher for me. He never refuses pâté.
I made the call to an emergency vet at 9:35pm. I explained everything to the call handler, figuring if they wouldn’t see us, then it would be a case of taking him to his regular vet the next day. The call only took 6 minutes, during which the handler suggested we bring him in to be seen. We were sent the address, and we got ready to go.
We left Amis in the garden while we grabbed what we needed – Gareth a clean shirt, me my shoes, and got a towel for the dog hammock in the back of our car. I think Amis realised something was happening and that we were going somewhere, because we found him standing in the kitchen looking very sorry for himself. He was still very wobbly, so we popped on his harness and helped him to the car.
We arrived at the vet hospital around 10pm, and spoke to a receptionist, who said we’d probably be triaged quickly since it was quiet. Even she picked up on his breathing, asking “does he normally breathe that quickly?”
A veterinary nurse came out soon after and looked him over. She immediately said that he looked pale, and his stomach looked distended. She listened to what had happened, she told us she’d take him in to the vet, and they’d probably need to shave his fur for an ultrasound and an IV. We agreed, and off he went.
His behaviour at the hospital was… unusual. He greeted the nurse with a wagging tail, and let himself be stroked – which is normal, but most of the time he will only allow a couple of strokes before wandering off. This time, he didn’t. And when the nurse led him towards the consultation rooms, he didn’t even look back at Gareth and me to see if we were coming. It was like he was completely spaced out, just happy to go along with whatever.
We were there an hour before we got any more information. It did feel like a lot longer, but it always does when someone you love or care about isn’t well. We mainly scrolled mindlessly on our phones, and I had a coffee from the drinks station there, but we didn’t talk much.
Just after 11pm, we spoke with the vet. She explained to us that there was a tumour on his spleen, and that there was blood in his chest cavity. She added that there were several reasons for the free fluid, which could range from treatable to cancerous to… terminal. It was a lot of information and medical terminology in very little time, and I think it overwhelmed us both.
I asked what our options right now were, since some of what she mentioned would be decisions based on what may happen tonight. Putting it succintly, it was pretty much either putting Amis down, or performing surgery to remove the tumour. We agreed on surgery; if there’s a chance Amis can be helped, then of course we’d choose that.
We signed a couple of waivers for them to keep him overnight, and they took a deposit for that. They explained they would try and stabilise him until the soft tissue team arrived in the morning to perform the surgery, and that they would only contact us if anything happened or they needed information.
“No news is good news.”
We went home, dog-less, and tried our best to process what had happened in the last two hours. Gareth has had him since he was a puppy, and Amis is coming up to 10 now. That’s a third of Gareth’s life, he’s part of our family.
Seeing Gareth so close to tears when the vet was explaining everything was heartbreaking to see. Gareth rarely cries, and I had no idea how to help him now that we were home.
We put on some crap TV, tried to decompress, and eventually went to bed.
We woke up the next morning at 7:30am with a missed call from the hospital. The call had come in at 3:15am, and Gareth very nearly had a panic attack seeing it on his phone. He called back immediately, and we were relieved to learn that Amis was stable; they had wanted to get permission to do a blood transfusion, as Amis had lost a lot of it, but they went ahead with it anyway when they couldn’t reach us.
We only have the one car between us, and normally I take it to work with me. But because of the situation, we agreed that Gareth would drive me to work and then take it home. He’d either pick me up at the end of the day, or I’d get the bus back. So, off we went, and Gareth dropped me at work.
Gareth had another phonecall with the vet at around 8:45am, where they discussed the surgery, the risks, and fees for treatment. I had an email come through at 9:15am to sign consent, and I believe he went into the operating room soon after. Essentially, they needed to check where the blood was coming from; if it was from the spleen, then that’s an easy treatment, but if it was from anywhere else, there could be complications.
“No news is good news.”
On my lunch break, I called Gareth to check how he was doing. Of course, the answer was “I’ve been better”. But we have a really great support network, and he was doing okay.
Amis came out of surgery at around 2pm. The good news was that the bleeding was coming from the spleen, so that was removed. The not-so-good news was that, while they were there, they found some “cancerous lesions” on his liver. They took some samples of it, and were sent off for testing.
Amis had to have another blood transfusion, because lurchers tend to have more extreme blood loss than other dogs, but they were confident that he would recover.
Gareth picked me up from work, and we decided to order Chinese takeaway that night for dinner – one of Gareth’s comfort foods. A friend of ours joined us for the evening, just for extra support, which we really appreciated.
We had another phonecall from the vet that evening around 7pm, just to update us. They had to put Amis on plasma to aid in his recovery from the blood loss, but otherwise, he was stable and they expected him to recover well.
We stuck on a movie, and called it a night after. Neither of us had had much sleep the night before, so an earlier night was definitely warranted.
Everything seemed fine. As fine as it could be, with our dog recovering in hospital. We had an update around 10am, letting us know that he was still stable and recovering. They planned to wean him off his medication, and try getting him to eat. They hope to release him to us either on Sunday or Monday.
We went about our day as much as we could. It felt a little off not having Amis around, but it was only temporary, right? Soon he’d be home, and we’d be back to normal in the near future.
I did some research on what kind of care he would need post-op, and we discussed what changes we could make in the house to support his recovery. We’d move the dog gate from the pantry to the bottom of thr stairs, so he wouldn’t try to climb them; we’d get the waterproof table cloth from the kitchen and put it in the living room so that we could have his food and water close to hand without soiling the carpet.
We were hopeful. A second update in the early afternoon continued in the same vein. He’s still stable, he’s still recovering. Sunday or Monday, we’d have him back.
Around half nine that night, we got another call.
“He’s taken a turn. Are you close by?”
We’re only 5 minutes away by car.
“Maybe you should come in, just in case.”
Just in case.
My heart sank.
I abandoned my just-warmed-up leftovers, and we left immediately. I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty sure I ignored the speed limit at times. What would it matter if I got fined?
We arrived, and we were taken to see him in the ICU. Amis watched us walk in, but it didn’t seem like he recognised us. He was attached to wires that were monitoring him. They explained that his heart rate was very fast, but his blood pressure was normal. Sometimes this happens with lidocaine, so they had taken him off that to see if it helped.
We gave him fusses, and the vet in charge of his care did too. She gave him a kiss on the nose, and I knew then that she cared for him almost as much as we did. It comforted me to know he was in good hands.
But his blood pressure dropped. He lay on his side, eyes wide, and began hyperventilating. My heart, already so low, sank further.
We were rushed out of the ICU and taken to a more private room. We cried. We weren’t sure what was happening to our sweet boy. A veterinary nurse brought us tissues, and asked us what we wanted them to do in case he flatlined.
We chose “Do Not Resuscitate”. It was the hardest choice we have ever been asked to make, but we knew it was the right one.
They took him to the x-ray, to see if they could discover the cause. They let us go with him, so we could say goodbye
just in case.
I told him to stop being a drama queen, and that I loved him. My heart breaking
I don’t know what Gareth said to him, but he was in tears. He almost didn’t let go. But we had to let the veterinary team do their jobs.
We were taken to another room, one of their consulting rooms. A different nurse brought us some water, and she informed us that they were trying to resuscitate him. We reminded her of our DNR.
“DNR? You’re sure?”
Yes.
“Really sure?”
Yes.
“Positive?”
“Please, don’t ask me again.”
She rushed out. And we waited. 11pm came and went.
It felt like forever before they brought him in. He was laid on a gurney, a fleece blanket draped over him so we couldnt see his scars, or I suppose any damage from the CPR they had initially given him.
We cried. We told him we loved him, and that we’ll miss him. I told him that my childhood dog, Penny, would be there to greet him, and he better listen to her, because she’s fiesty. Gareth told him that we’ll see him again, one day, so he better be good.
But of course he will. He was a Good Boy.
We’d been told to knock on one of the other doors when we were ready, and the vet came in.
She offered us her condolences, and told us that she was so disappointed in herself that she couldn’t save him. We told her that she did everything she could, and we were grateful. She, in turn, reassured us that we had also done everything we could, and believed we’d made all the right decisions.
It doesn’t make it hurt any less.
She offered to cut some fur from him for us to keep, and an impression of his pawprint. We accepted, of course, quietly surprised that we didn’t even need to ask.
We did ask what had happened.
She explained that they believed he’d had intercranial (within the skull) bleeding, as there was a particular symptom she’d seen in his eye. They would have scanned to find out, but apparently he didn’t give them a chance.
Stubborn to the end.
We’ll never know for sure. But that’s okay. What would it give us in the long run? He’s gone, and right then, that was all that mattered.
We asked what would happen next. She told us to go home, and to call the next day. We’d been through too much to sort out paperwork.
So that’s what we did. I dried up enough tears to drive us home. Dog-less once more, but this time knowing he’d never come home again.
Our friend, who had come over the previous night, came over again. He brought us some burgers and chicken nuggets from McDonald’s, knowing I’d not eaten. He stayed with us for a while, for which we’re so appreciative.
After he went home, we slept. Uneasily, in the living room, with the TV going to help distract us from our thoughts, but in between us…
Amis’ favourite toy.
Live, LARP, Love 