Our sweet puppy, Gunner is sick. He's eleven years old, but I still call him Puppy. Now, the decision of if andwhen to euthanize him lies in my hands.
He began to decline last year and we coaxed him back to health until two weeks ago when he stopped eating his kibble. A trip to the vet revealed nothing significant. All signs point to a blockage. Possibly cancer, possibly a foreign object.The next step would be exploratory surgery and MRIs running into hundreds and hundreds of dollars over the $470 we'd already spent. We could not afford to spend more. So, we made the decision to allow nature to take its course. I have been delaying nature a bit by preparing boiled hamburger mixed with cooked rice, pureed and fed in small multiple meals throughout the day.
So the decision of how long to nurse our puppy is up to me. I am his keeper, nurse and daytime friend. My husband is his cleaner-upper and the kids provide love.
I know that I attribute human traits onto our animals. I compare Gunner to a sickly old man. I am his caregiver and it is difficult to decide where my limit is for caring. My inclination is to go the distance, loving and coddling him until his last breath. But reality is much harsher. How long can I leave him to run errands, how long will my husband clean up dog vomit, how long until Gunner suffers, what IS his quality of life. Do I measure the quality of his life in tails wags? If so, there's a ton of life left in this sweet boy. He still follows me around, thumps his tail on the floor, sniffs the air outside and gets excited to see his leash. Dogs don't show pain the way people do. They don't call from their sickbed, moan for sips of water or tell us how badly it hurts. Instead, we have to read very subtle signs.
In my experiences, the end of life so rarely happens as in the movies. People slipping off expectantly in their sleep is a rare blessing. No, in my life, loved ones linger, cling to life and fight death to the end. We anguish over their pain and pray for God to quickly release them from it. But in today's medicine, loved ones are forced to decide when to "pull the plug". This decision is too big for me. I have made it before and I prefer not to be dealt this hand again. Not for humans or animals. I want God to make the life and death decisions for I am certainly not qualified. And yet, here I am again. When will Gunner die?
Our kind vet answered my questions about how to make this decision. While warning that it is a personal choice, she helped me look for signs of "quality of life" in our dog. Explained how to keep him nourished and comfortable. But still, the decision is mine.
For now, I take it one day at a time. As long as I can feed him and watch over him, his death sentence is commuted for one more day. I pray for signs that will make the decision definite, easier. But each day, I live with a lump in my throat, loving this puppy and the memories he has given us. He takes with him our daughter's childhood, for they grew up with this puppy and now they are young women. He is a kind and faithful friend who never asked for anything and gave so much in return.
I know in the end, I will still whisper, "I'm sorry".
