One week later

It’s been a week since we lost Abby. It seems much longer, though. Time has slowed down since we first learned that she was going to be leaving us. After losing Meg the days got longer. Now they’ve slowed to a crawl. The house is quiet, the days unpunctuated by trips outside, feedings, barky interruptions.

We’re working through all of this, staying busy, and we’ve been able to talk and laugh about our lives together. Fortunately we’re not riddled with guilt, wondering if we did the right thing, and we had some time to prepare as her health slipped away.

But the days aren’t yet normal. It’s hard to tell when they begin, because the old routine of getting up early, getting everyone emptied and then fed, then emptied again — the way every day had started for many, many years — is now gone.

Two nights ago she showed up in a dream. She was once again The Happiest Dog Ever, just wanting to say “hey.” When I woke up I felt as if something had worked itself out, and somehow knew that we were all going to be okay.

In the beginning…

Abby’s first haircut, days after springing her from the shelter.

Many thanks to all of you visiting from cuteoverload.com. It’s been less than 24 hours since saying goodbye to the Abster; your kindness has made this day a little easier.

To all our furbuddies, a toast.
Hug ‘em tonight, or spend some time thinking about the ones waiting on the other side.

Letting go

Abby

aka Little Bunny, Bear, Muppet, Squirmelina, Bugdog

December 1991 - February 16, 2006

Lulled to sleep by the sound of grenades exploding

Abby continues her slow decline, but still finds pleasure in being in the room when Ghost Recon 2 is on the Xbox. When the explosions start, she’ll walk in slowly and either settle in front of the tv or on the sofa next to us, snuggled into a sweatshirt that she’s now taken as hers. Soon the sounds of slow, relaxed breathing provide a soothing background to the grenades and gunfire.

Bad news

Abby’s bloodwork came back. Her BUN levels — which measure a benchmark toxin in the blood — were over 130. We don’t know how much over, though, because the machine only goes up to this level.

The vet said she has less than a month. Coming back from this level of kidney failure, especially given her age, is unlikely.

So we’re now keeping her comfortable, feeding 4:1 rice and chicken since she won’t eat anything else. She’s slowly losing weight, and seems to be gradually detaching herself from the world.

I can’t yet bring myself to write more about her. She came into my life as a puppy, almost fifteen years ago. We’ve been through a lot of changes together, and she was the one constant in my life, as I was in hers.

I knew this time would come. Just not now. Not yet.

Crisis not exactly passed, after all

Since Abby’s episode of congestive heart failure, we’ve been working to find a balance with medications to help her heart, but not damage her kidneys. Right now her kidneys aren’t functioning as well as they should, so the toxins in her blood are elevated. She seems to be feeling just okay, which is a step down from her usual energetic gregariousness. She had stopped eating on Monday, but on Thursday ate some chicken and rice, and has gained back a little of the weight she lost. We’ve discontinued one of the heart medications — enalapril — to keep from damaging her kidneys any further, but that means her heart has to work a little harder.

These tradeoffs are so hard to call. She’s eating again, but I don’t know if the protein will hit her kidneys too hard. Her heart’s enlarged and her murmur has gotten worse, but the medication was burning up her kidneys. The other medications help keep her lungs dry, but they’re upsetting what had been the fairly healthy chemical balance of a dog who was aging normally.

She’s going back in on Tuesday for another round of bloodwork to make sure her toxin levels haven’t increased.

Crisis passed

Abby’s back home again. She spent Monday at her regular vet, where I learned about the miracle called Lasix. She’ll be on it the rest of her life, along with a low-sodium diet.

She’s still not eating well, though. Since Monday night she’s only nibbled at her food, and because her weight was already down we’re worried about this latest turn.

Emergency vet again

This time for Abby.

Around 4am her breathing woke me up — it sounded like she was hyperventilating, though she wasn’t agitated. After about ten minutes without letup, we took her to the emergency vet about ten minutes away. They listened to her lungs and ran some x-rays, finally diagnosing her with congestive heart failure.

The vet quickly said that “failure” doesn’t mean that she’s not going to make it, but that once we get past this episode, it can be managed with diet and medication. She’s in very good shape — far better than most 15-year-olds — and has a good chance of pulling through this.

But it’s now 2:00pm, and she’s still there, hooked up to oxygen and an IV, while they work to get the fluid out of her lungs. The vet on this shift isn’t quite as optimistic — she’s saying it could go either way, and said that it’s clearly a “crisis” — but also said that there’s some slight improvement in her breathing.

I just hope her body doesn’t give out with the physical stress of a rapid heartbeat and hyperventilation.