I called my mom today at lunch to see how Bubbles was doing. The news was not good. He cannot get up at all anymore. She said that this morning, she heard him whimpering, and she found him struggling to get to his newspaper. He just couldn't get up on his own. He's also had other difficult problems with other things, so he requires constant care.
As painful at it was to hear myself say the words, I told her that he shouldn't suffer like this anymore. He doesn't seem to be in pain, but I know he must be uncomfortable.
When he lays down, if he sleeps on his side, he cannot get back to an upright position on his own. My parents have to carry him to his water dish - stubborn dog will not drink from it when they bring it to him. He's like a stubborn old man who wants something, but doesn't want you bringing it to him. He wants to get it on his own, even if you have to help him get to it.
Anyway, lunch was the last thing on my mind at that point. My husband picked me up from work and we headed over to my parents house.
Bubbles can no longer get in and out of his beloved bed - instead, they have him on a makeshift bed near the kitchen. The bed is covered with one of those puppy pads - so is a large portion of the kitchen floor - so that if he needs to go, it's all prepared for him.
He was so happy to see us. His tail wagged a little and he just seemed to come alive. I went over to him and kneeled over him. He snuggled with me as he always does and licked me. My sweet little Bubbles. He was breathing very fast - and his tongue was very red. A red tongue, per the vet, means that he wasn't getting enough oxygen.
After a long discussion with my parents, it was decided that it was time. The final goodbye. We called the vet - and were surprised that we couldn't bring him in today, but were told to bring him in in the morning - and he would see if he could make Bubbles more comfortable. Euthenasia was the last resort, he said. But that wasn't the point of us calling. As a family, we decided that this just isn't what Bubbles' final days should be like. We know he is suffering inside, even though he doesn't look it from the outside. He's still a beautiful dog. With the cancer spread throughout his body, we've accepted that he isn't going to get any better - he will only get worse, and the pain will come soon. We don't want that for him.
So, here I am at almost 1am, thinking tomorrow may be the last time I see my dog - but then again it may not be. If the vet convinces my parents that Bubbles can last a little longer, then I know that's what they would want to do. It's hard enough to prepare yourself to let go - but when you're given an out to delay the decision longer - I have a feeling my parents would want to take it. And I don't blame them. At this point, I don't know how to prepare myself for tomorrow. The right decision for Bubbles' sake is to let him go. End the suffering before he has to go through any pain that the cancer would cause him.
I sit here and look at his picture. It's unbelievable that 15 years has passed already with him in our family. It's not right that soon there won't be a fat Chihuahua greeting me when I go visit my parents. He won't be running up to me carrying a toy that is way too big for him. He won't be there to snuggle up on my legs and lick my face when I ask him for a kiss. It's just wrong that dogs and cats have such short lives. You love them so much and they're just taken away from you too soon.
I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to wake up and know it's time to get ready to go over to my parents house and bring Bubbles to the vet. I don't want to say goodbye. If I don't go to sleep, then that time will come much slower.
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