Woke up this morning...my dog took a turn for the worst. Took him to the vet at 8:30am...decided to IV him ...visited at 2:30pm...still suffering (intestinal)...can't stand on his own...came back to take him home to IV him over the weekend....I coached from 4:30-8pm...came home and he was barely alive. Limbs were cold, eyes were glazed and breath was shallow...so much anger inside, didn't want him to suffer...
When asking the "Vet" earlier that day if I was just prolonging the inevitable ...he couldn't tell me. It left me thinking I was not being optimistic enough about my dogs circumstances, although in my heart I knew I was losing Rogue. I wanted to know when to let him go, when to stage a descent goodbye, when to stop his suffering. This false hope turned into watching an animal I loved suffer and hang on to a life that couldn't be brought back.
How many dogs does a vet have to see come through their hospital doors before knowing how to say ...it's over. I'm sorry Rogue. I loved you MUCH...best hiking buddy EVER. Because you fought so hard to stay.....I will fight so hard to make each day count....onward.
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