When you're a dog owner there's a lot of moments of together that you take for granted and as built in responsibility. You will watch t.v. together, you will go for walks together, any time food is being prepared or consumed the dog will want you to be together...and sharing. You will clean up dog poo together, you will play catch and tug together. In my case you will check out what's going on outside the window together and you'll sleep in the same bed together, though the dog may take up more of the bed than you do. You can't go away for days on end or stay away for more than a set period because your dog needs you to be together at least long enough for him to pee. For many years you will go to the veterinarian's office together to get shots and physicals.
The part that sucks is that, eventually, the day will come when together isn't something you take for granted anymore.
My Veterinarian summed it up quite well when he brought the x-rays in for me to see today. "I hate that we keep having to have this conversation about tumors and Cancer." You and me both, man.
Until today I figured I'd be spending a lot more time together with Sergei, making sure he got his cocktail of meds, concocting a disgusting mess of dried & canned dog food to keep him eating despite those meds, carrying his furry butt up and down the stairs if necessary. Even though these are all end of life things, I didn't see past these day to day moments to the end of us being together. Now it's staring me in the face - like I said, this isn't my first rodeo. I know he's not doing ok. I know that any time I buy now is for me, not him.
I'm being selfish and I know it. I'm sure the Vet knew it too, but he's watched me fall apart quite a few times now, and I couldn't stop the tears this time either.
Today I already had to acknowledge some last moments Sergei and I would spend together. The last vet visit. I'll ask them to come to me for the end rather than letting another animal go in a clinic. In all likelihood his last car ride - he never would sit or lie down in the car, that hasn't changed, and it's too much jostling on his weakened bones. Our last hike together was months ago now, and I regret we weren't out there every weekend.
He's dreaming now - muscles twitching as he chases something in his sleep. Maybe it's that damned squirrel who always jumps the fence at the last minute. Sweet dreams baby dog - I'm going to miss being together with you and I pray you'll forgive me for stringing this out while I try to let my heart break slowly this time around.