Soapbox

Tuesday I took both dogs in to the vet.
     Rocket is about 14 now, and not exactly 'ageing gracefully'. His legs shake, he is deaf as a post and seems quite senile- can no longer seem to grasp the most basic commands. He tends to pace and will sometimes circle for more than 5 minutes on the carpet before he finally lowers his old bones to lie down. But he is still housebroken, enjoys (short) walks and occasionally gets feisty and likes to boss Tucker around. And no matter how gray he gets, he's still my 'Baby dog"
    The vet drew some blood to check kidney and liver function and called to say there were some slight abnormalities. Nothing too concerning except for the slight possibility of a certain type of tumor, which is particularly aggressive and fast-moving. She suggested I bring him in today so she could check his anal glands for signs of this tumor.

Right.
     So of course I wasn't looking forward to it. It's like when you child needs a painful procedure: if they're old enough to at least grasp the concept that there is a reason for this pain, while it is still difficult to watch, you feel less guilty than with a baby, who only knows that you handed them over to someone who hurt them! It's like that with a pet. With his increasing senility, Rocket is even more confused and easily upset and while it was going to be a pretty minor procedure, I knew it would probably freak him out. So I felt guilty putting his leash on and taking him over there and of course was unable to reassure him or to explain why I was going to let them do this thing.
     Just being in the car seemed to confuse and distress him. He wined and paced until he slid off the seat onto the floor where he had no room to pace and just whined. I was talking to him to try to calm him- but of course he can't hear me. So as I drove, I started thinking about our 'agreement'.
    After we had to have the Big Dog put down, I made Rocket promise that he was going to die peacefully in his sleep. Hopefully at an advanced age, but peacefully, with no confusion, no pain and no guilt and hard decisions on my part. It would be very sad, but easier on all of us that way.
     And of course this got me thinking about Boomer and the night we said goodbye to him. I still have absolutely not one second of doubt that we made the right call, and he was fortunate enough to apparently feel quite well right up until the catastrophic failure at the end… but it still hurts to remember. It hurts to remember how much he trusted us, how reassured he was by our presence when they brought him into the room where they gave him the final injections and how eagerly he tried to convince us to just take him home and away from this place.

     So by the time I got to the vet's office (about 6 blocks away) I was in tears just thinking about my big Dog… and my Baby Dog. He paced and fretted until they took him into the back room- then tried to pull away and run back to me. I went outside and sat by the front door for a few minutes- I didn;t want to hear him squeal. That's how much of a coward I am.
     The vet brought him back in short order and said that everything looks fine so probably the slight abnormallities in his blood work are just age-related and not really anything we need to treat other than with TLC. Rocket, for his part, looked a little shell-shocked and had his tail between his legs (well who wouldn't?!)
    "He'll never get in a car with me again after all this" I joked.
    "Mom- just don't tell Tucker what went on here!" she replied.
    "What happens at the vet, stays at the vet!" I replied, and she laughed.
      I took him back to the car and this time I put him in the front seat.
    "That's how big my love is, little guy" I said as I climbed in. I thought I could pet him on the way home and soothe him.
     Uh…. no. He whined and paced and seemed determined to climb over the center console to my lap. I thought Well it's only a couple of blocks on residential streets- why not? and helped him over… where he continued to whine and (ouch!) pace. Back over to the passenger side- then back over to my side, where he proceded to get his head stuck in the steering wheel as I was trying to go around a corner (at about 5 mph, fortunately).
    We made it home, I gave him multiple treats, let him boss Tucker around for a bit and he seems back to his old- old self. But I am still holding him to that agreement we have.
    Why do I keep getting pets? It's just too hard to do this. Even 4 1/2 years after the fact, it's still hard.